DC Book 4: A Ring of Roses
by aubreysmom
Summary: Our darlings move closer in their relationship and a serial killer stalks DC. Could it be that his true target is much closer to home than they could ever expect?
1. Title & Prologue

**A Ring of Roses**

(a sequel to _All That Sparkles, The Price of Peace_ and _Seeing Double_)

By aubreysmom

**Rating**: PG-13 **Warnings: **Some moderate sensuality and violence… the villain in this one's a real prince…

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story, with the exception of Elizabeth Dillingham and Evan Graham, are the property of Pebblehut Productions and PAXSON Entertainment. Jeff Vance is a character from Medina's _Green Money_, and I hope she doesn't mind the reference. Sam Leland makes a reappearance courtesy of RRP.

**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to RRP, who keeps me honest and on character with her beta-reads. And to my great Dictation-Giver, for whom I am but a secretary. And my other betas this time around: ducky, Nel and 'Laine. Thanks, guys!

**Author's Note:** Quick reminder – this series only follows the show to a point. It started before we learned about Anne, or the names of Myles' parents. We take our background from a comment in "The Fugitive" (Season 1) in which Myles confirms he has brothers. The only one who we see in this installment is Sam… Brad and Jamie we'll meet later… also, Stanley never existed, or never dated Tara… she's Sam's lady…

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**Prologue**

_Baltimore, Maryland_

_Sunday, May 23, 3:48 am_

"_Oh! Snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,_

_On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;_

_But on thy turf shall roses rear_

_Their leaves, the earliest of the year;_

_And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:_ …"

Lord Byron's words, whispered, completed the ritual as he tossed a rose onto the body of the woman on the ground.

A black rose, it was called, so deeply red that it looked black. The perfect signature for what was to come in one life – black for torment, black for death. And torment her he would, right up until the end. He would pave a trail of bodies, leaving no clues to reveal himself – until it was too late. That which he had suffered for eight years, he would return upon her a hundredfold.

He would watch as the investigation unfolded, as the authorities tried in vain to find a pattern. There wasn't one – unless someone thought to ask her. And the odds of that were slim at best. He would continue south, into the heart of the nation's capitol, into her very home; he would leave two more calling cards, and then she would be his to drive mad before she joined the ring of roses.

He looked down again at his latest victim; her skin paling as the blood drained from her throat. Shortly, perhaps within the hour, her crimson scarf would be complete, and this rose would fade away like the others.

He smiled.


	2. Chapter 1: A Day Off

**Chapter 1: A Day Off**

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_West Potomac Park, Washington D. C._

_Saturday, May 29, 1 p.m._

"Space your feet a bit wider. That's it." Myles' voice in her ear was a welcome distraction from contemplating the five miserable putts she'd made so far. "Tighten your grip a little." His arms were around her, his hands folded over hers on the club. Elizabeth Dillingham closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of getting lost in his touch and the scent of his after-shave.

"I still say this is the blind leading the blind," Bobby drawled from a few feet away. He was sitting on the grass near the small putting green, his arm draped around Darcy D'Angelo. "One 'Hail Mary' putt against Jeff Vance does _not_ qualify you to be an instructor."

Myles looked over at him. "Do you mind? You're messing up her concentration."

Elizabeth laughed and turned in his arms so she could look at him. "Actually, I'm starting to think Bobby's right. I think you're helping me miss on purpose."

"Now why would I do that?" His face was all innocence.

"Because," she replied with a smile, grabbing one edge of the collar on his golf shirt, "this gives you an excuse for a public display of affection in front of your co-workers." She turned to Bobby and Darcy. "'Scuse us for just a sec."

"Righto. I'm sure we can find something to do." They pointedly turned their backs, snuggling closer into an embrace at the same time.

Elizabeth turned back to Myles, pulled on the collar and drew him into a kiss. "There. Better?"

His arms tightened around her. "Mmmm….much."

"Good." She shrugged him off. "Now get out of my way." She heard laughs from the other couple as Myles stepped back, grinning.

Elizabeth lined up the shot, took a breath, and tapped the ball with the putter. The white sphere shot straight for the cup and dropped in cleanly. "There." She nodded once, then turned to the rest of them. "That's enough golf for today. Let's go see what the others are up to."

They walked across the grass toward the picnic table where the rest of the group was congregated. Jack, David Palmer, Dimitrius and D's son Davey were playing Frisbee. Tara, Sue, Lucy and Donna Gans were chatting at the table as they set out lunch. Tanya Gans was tossing a stick for Levi.

It was the first Saturday the team had had off in about two months, and it coincided with the first really warm spring day in D.C. Winter had lingered a bit this year, but now the cherry blossoms were out in abundance, the sun was warm in a cloudless sky, and nobody wanted to be indoors.

Elizabeth broke away from Myles for a minute to go give Tara a hug. "Hey, you made it. I was starting to wonder."

Tara laughed. "That's what I get for putting off doing my laundry. How was the golf lesson?"

"Well, I'm not sure how much of a lesson it actually was. I think _someone_ had ulterior motives." She waved off his protest with a smile. "Give me a tennis racket over a golf club any day."

Darcy looked up. "You play tennis? I didn't know that."

"Me neither," Bobby added. "Why didn't you tell us, Myles? We could get a mixed-doubles match together."

Tara grinned. "I know why he's been so quiet about it in the eight months they've been dating. What's the score at now, Liz? Princeton-12, Harvard-3, isn't it?"

Myles held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, yes — as much as I hate to admit it, she's cleaning up the court with me." The look he gave her indicated he really didn't mind. "But, hey, maybe a mixed-doubles match is a good idea. What do you think, love? Shall we take on the Kangaroo Kid and his lovely sidekick?"

Elizabeth flashed a quick grin at Tara, then walked over to him and slipped her arm around his waist. "I think you'll have a much better chance of winning if we're on the same side of the net."

"Oh, thank you so much."

Sue saved him from any more abuse by calling over to the Frisbee foursome. "Guys! Lunch is ready!"

As David Palmer walked up and gave Sue a hug, Tara sighed. "I wish Sam was down here, instead of up on Cape Cod."

"What, you mean he hasn't bought a townhouse down here yet?" Lucy teased. "I'm surprised he's still letting you rent your apartment, after the car he bought you."

Tara blushed. "He offered to buy the whole building, but I told him I'd rather have a good reason to keep working with you all – I put up with a whole lot more if I have bills to pay." She grinned at Myles. "Your twin really surprised me – for someone whose whole life was video games, he's certainly picked up on the full-blown courting routine."

"Oh, his life wasn't all video games," Myles replied thoughtfully, and for a brief second the team had the vague feeling things were about to get serious. Then Myles let a grin slip past and he added, "About half of it consisted of his cat."

A laugh rolled around the table, and Bobby shook his head. "That brother of yours...hey, how's he doing, anyway? Liz?"

Elizabeth smiled, but shrugged her shoulders. "You mean, in regards to a couple months ago? I don't know, except what he tells me or Myles. You understand, I'm not his therapist. I don't have any more privileges over 'patient-doctor confidentiality' than you do."

"He's doing alright," Tara answered when it was clear that Myles was going to say nothing. "I was talking to him on the phone last night, and he's gotten a job at a local coffee shop. He doesn't need the money, but it's therapy, or something like that. I suspect it's partially because he can sneak espressos when Gregory's not around to watch him..."

Dimitrius chuckled at that. "Like he needs the caffeine."

Elizabeth laughed, then glanced at Myles for a moment. He nodded, and she turned back to the group. "Sam needs to get comfortable someplace besides inside his video games. A job where he has to be around real people should help him focus on something other than the past, and he won't be so quick to try to drown it out with whatever noise he can. I think he'll be just fine. And I know Tara's helping a whole lot." She grinned at her friend.

A bit more teasing went on as they ate; no one was exempt, and it made for a very relaxed atmosphere. When lunch was over, the adults lounged on the grass while Davey and Tanya took Levi for a run.

"Hey, Darcy," Lucy said, "what's your latest article going to be on? Or is it 'top secret'?"

The reporter laughed, a bit hesitantly. "Not top secret, but not exactly uplifting, either. I'm following the Black Rose Murders."

Tara shivered. "Man, I'm glad that one's not in our field area. Too spooky."

"Have they found _anything_ linking the victims?" Sue asked.

Darcy shook her head. "I don't think so, although of course no one official is really saying one way or the other." She swatted Bobby playfully on the back. "And I actually put up with it now, thanks to a corrupting influence on my journalistic tenacity."

The Aussie, lying on his stomach with his arms folded in front of him, turned to grin up at her. "Corrupting, nothing. I saved you from a life of chronic cynicism. Bad enough that Myles is beyond hope; I couldn't let a spunk like you share that fate."

Before Myles could retort, Jack spoke up. "Oh, I've seen you on the edge of that fate a few times in your life, Crash. Just goes with the job sometimes." He sighed. "I do wish we got more days like this. It feels like we've been cooped up in that office forever."

"Well," Dimitrius said, pulling Donna a little closer to him, "here's hoping we can have a quiet week before we have to save the world again."

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_Leland Home, Washington DC_

_Sunday, 30 May_

_4:45 am_

Myles stirred, and opened his eyes to a blue television screen and Elizabeth curled up next to him on the sofa. _The Grapes of Wrath_ had apparently ended several hours ago; they'd both fallen asleep during it.

He looked down at her, debating whether to try to move or just let her sleep. As he watched her, relaxed with her head on his chest and her hand still in his, a thought popped into his head: _I could get used to waking up like this, with her…_ What was most surprising was that the thought was not immediately followed by what Bobby called the "single man's survival scream;" a momentary panic over the thought of settling down.

They'd been together since the end of last September – eight months now, and they'd been through a bit more in that time than most couples dealt with in a lifetime. He'd thought he'd lost her, awhile back, when he'd come very close to losing his life in doing his job. She had struggled with it, backed off for the two weeks he spent recovering from Ebola, then had walked back into his life with "let peace begin – with _us_" on her lips. Whatever path his career led him on, she would walk it with him voluntarily. _That_ fact still left him a little awestruck even now, three months later. More recently she had been there as well, had helped to heal a rift between Sam and himself that he'd thought was irreparable; his twin was back, close, and he marveled at it each day.

Elizabeth was so much a part of his life now that he couldn't imagine life without her. _Maybe it's time to do something about that. _The voice in his head surprised him, but again, the only emotion it evoked was warmth, rather than fear. He smiled, watching her still, then leaned over and gently placed a kiss on her forehead.

She stirred, her green eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Oh, hi," she murmured sleepily. "What time is it?"

"About 5 am," he replied, pulling her close. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's ok." She snuggled against him. "I think I like waking up next to you." She paused; then, realizing what she'd said, she blushed slightly. "Oh…sorry. That just kind of slipped out."

He laughed softly. "Don't apologize. I was just thinking the same thing." His gaze softened. "You know, I—"

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. He sighed and picked it up, knowing full well there was only one thing that would constitute a call at five in the morning. _Now I know how D must feel at times._ "Leland."

"Myles?" Jack's voice was urgent. "Better get in here. Darcy's article just got localized."

Myles' eyes widened. "A Black Rose murder? Here in DC?" He was already on his feet. He looked at Elizabeth again; she was sitting up, wide awake now.

"Yes."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Myles started to say something to Elizabeth, but she shook her head.

"Go," she said, standing up. "No apology needed, love. Go."

He took her face in his hands and gave her a lingering kiss. "You are amazing. I hope you're still this understanding after we've been married for twenty years." Her eyebrows went up, and he suddenly realized what he'd said. "I mean—"

She laughed. "I love you, too. Now go on; they're waiting for you."

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	3. Chapter 2: The Rose Has Thorns

**Chapter 2: The Rose Has Thorns**

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_Potomac Circle Mall, Washington DC_

_Sunday, 30 May_

_5:15 am_

He couldn't help but contrast the last image he'd had of Elizabeth, laughing up at him, with the white stillness of the woman lying on the floor of the back area of Potomac Circle Mall.

She was young, not more than 30, and dressed as though she were a professional somewhere; her blonde hair was still twisted up, although many strands had long since come loose, no doubt as she struggled with her assailant. Blood had spilled out from her throat, so much of it that he doubted there was even a pint left in her. A white sheet was pulled back from the upper part of her body, and the darkness of the rose tossed onto her was a sharp image against the tan dress.

"Look what ERT found." Jack's voice broke into his thoughts, and Myles turned toward the shorter agent. Jack handed him an evidence bag with a white piece of paper in it.

Myles' voice was rough before he got through reading the note. "Oh! Snatch'd away in beauty's bloom/On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;/But on thy turf shall roses rear/Their leaves, the earliest of the year;/And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:…" He looked up. "That's the first stanza of a poem by Lord Byron."

"We have a calling card, it would appear." Dimitrius joined in the conversation.

Myles' characteristic sarcasm had a bitter tone to it. "What kind of a sick freak takes something from one of the most romantic poets ever and turns it into their calling card for serial killing?"

"The same sick freak who also sends 'em flowers with the poetry." Bobby had come up behind them, and the tone of his voice wasn't far behind Myles'.

"Well," said Jack, "I want you to head up finding out what kind of sick freak we're dealing with, Myles. You'll be the case agent on this one."

Myles looked at him in surprise. It wasn't often he had the opportunity to be the case agent, and he knew it was because he usually came across as terribly overbearing during it. He tried not to sound too shocked as he replied, "Any particular reason why? It's just—"

Jack cut him off. "Because you spent five years in Violent Crime. You and D are the closest thing to profilers that we have. I know it's not something you'd like to relive, so to speak, but we need you."

"Oh, man," Bobby groaned. "Why'd you have to tell him that? Now there'll be no living with him."

Myles acknowledged the barb with a slight smile, but then nodded quite soberly to Jack. "All right."

For a moment, they watched him shift five years into the past, steeling himself even as he geared up for it. It took about a half-second, and then he turned to Dimitrius. "D, pull up the case files for all the previous killings. We want to look for anything that even _remotely_ resembles a connection between the victims."

"The old drill," D responded. "Right."

"Jack, stay in contact with ERT. I want to know what this person used, and how they did it. Bobby, get in contact with the mall security. I want you and Sue to start going over their surveillance tapes for the past two days. Anything of her, or The Rose. We need to know if she was being followed, or if they were waiting here for her."

"Gotcha, mate." For once, Bobby had no comeback, but treated the situation with the gravity it warranted.

"Tara..." Myles paused, and held out the bag with the printed card. "Get someone from the lab to do some scans, and run some searches. I want to know what kind of paper they used, who sells it. What kind of ink, what kind of printer. The works."

"On it." Tara grabbed the bag and headed for her car.

"Tell ERT to go over every millimeter here, and to inform the morgue that detail counts in the autopsy. I want to know if this woman put sugar on her _cereal_ this morning." He looked around at the group still present. "Let's get back to the office and start getting into the Black Rose's head."

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_Hoover Building, Washington DC_

_Sunday, 30 May_

_4 p.m._

By late afternoon, the Bullpen more closely resembled a war room. Seven photos, seven names were up on the board, along with a map of the northeastern part of the US, from Massachusetts to Virginia. Two red magnets each marked off cities where the Black Rose had struck: Cambridge, Massachusetts, Princeton, New Jersey, and Baltimore, Maryland. One marker was on Washington, DC.

Case files were scattered over a table that Myles and D had set up just out of the traffic lane. Each had been gone over twice by each member of the team. ERT's report had been scrutinized as well, and they were just waiting on the autopsy report for Eve Harcourt, the latest victim.

Lucy walked in with the report and handed it to Myles. "Here you go."

He barely acknowledged her, but instead immediately started reading. After a second, he murmured absently, "Thanks, Luce," and headed back to his desk.

She stared at him for a moment— not because he'd actually bothered to thank her, but because he was almost a total stranger. Gone was the sarcasm, the often-morbid humor that was his trademark. In its place was…a predator. Lucy could feel it every time she went near him— a silent, lethal mental stalking of his prey.

A couple of times today, she'd caught him staring at the wall or out the window, processing some piece of information someone had handed him. The look in his eyes made her shiver, because it was _exactly_ like an image she'd seen on a nature program of a panther, perched in a tree, surveying a potential lunch.

She shivered again, and walked over to the coffee station, where D was getting a refill. Lucy leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Was he always like this while you guys were in the VCD? Like some big cat on the prowl?"

Dimitrius chuckled at the metaphor, then turned around and leaned against the table. "I don't know about 'always;' we only worked together on a handful of cases. Same division, different units. But yeah— what you're seeing now is the Myles I knew five years ago. When he went after a killer, he went fast and he went deep. And he usually spent two weeks after each case just trying to claw his way back to the surface before he had to do it again."

Lucy's eyes were wide as they both paused to contemplate him again at his desk. "That bad."

"Yep," D agreed. "That's about it in a nutshell. And, to continue with your metaphor, if we hit a bunch of snags and he starts getting frustrated…you know what happens when you get in the way of a big cat on the prowl?"

She swallowed. "You get your head taken off in a single swipe of a paw?

D nodded, chuckling again. "Pretty much. You all are in for a trip."

"Guys?" Myles' baritone reached every corner of the room. "Let's get up what we have so far. The autopsy report on Eve Harcourt is here. I want to know if anything matches the other reports we have." His voice held no emotion whatsoever.

The team gathered around, and the brainstorming began.

"So far we haven't been able to pinpoint _any_ connection between the victims," Bobby started. "Age, hair color, shoe size, profession, location, old school friends…_nothing_. Only two victims in each city, though. None of them knew each other, not even the two killed on the Princeton University campus. At this point, it looks as if the Rose isn't picky who he or she kills."

"But," Jack stepped in, "the _modus operandi_ is identical in every case. Early Sunday morning, each week for the past seven weeks, the Black Rose chloroforms a victim, shoots her in the arm with an anticoagulant, then makes a single small cut in her throat, most likely with a hobby-type knife."

Sue raised her hand slightly. "An anti-what?"

Myles answered her. "Anticoagulant." He paused while Lucy spelled it out. "It's a substance to prevent the blood from clotting. Our Rose wanted to make sure there was no chance of them surviving."

Sue nodded, and he turned to Tara. "What about the note?"

She pulled up a report. "No help tracking there. The paper was standard 20-pound printer paper, and it was done on a basic ink-jet. No prints, either. The Rose was probably wearing gloves while he or she was printing them off. That same poem was found at each of the murder scenes, so it's definitely got a meaning of some sort, but what we don't know."

"Oh, it has a meaning, all right," Myles replied tonelessly. "The first line, 'snatched away in beauty's bloom,' tells us he's looking for young women. The rest…our killer wants the victims where he or she can see them. There's a beauty in their deaths, whatever that might be, and the Black Rose wants 'no ponderous tomb' to stand in the way of the view. I wouldn't be surprised if he hung around to watch them die."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Dimitrius spoke. "The roses themselves might be a place to start. Black roses aren't exactly in high demand. Is there any place in DC where you could get them? Or Massachusetts, New Jersey, or Maryland, for that matter?"

Sue jumped up slightly at that. "I know someone who'd know the answer to that. Give me five minutes." She grabbed her phone and dialed, sitting down at her desk as she did so.

While she was doing that, Myles decided to tackle one aspect she already knew about, so she wouldn't miss anything. "Bobby, what happened with the surveillance tapes from the mall?"

The Aussie sighed and dropped into his chair, leaning back in it. "Not a bloody thing. Well, of value, anyway. The camera in the back area where we found her conveniently got blacked out before she was killed."

"Blacked out?" Lucy asked. "How?"

Bobby grunted. "Probably the Rose had already cased the place a couple days beforehand, came in directly under the camera, and put a coat or a cloth over the lens." He sat up, his elbows on his knees. "The previous two days worth of film were of Eve Harcourt going to work at the mall offices; she worked as the secretary to the mall manager."

"_That's_ the only even remote connection we have," he continued. "All of them were some kind of white-collar professionals. The fields are as diverse as they come, everything from paralegal to interior decorator."

Sue hung up her phone and came back around to lean against her desk. "David says there's not any greenhouse or florist's shop on the East Coast that would regularly carry black roses. It would have to be a special order. He said he'll do some checking."

Myles stared at the wall for a minute, processing that. "Tara," he began slowly, "is there a way to check the orders for all the mail-order seed and plant businesses in the US? Maybe our Black Rose is a gardener…"

"You think he's growing them himself?" Dimitrius queried.

"It'd be the hardest way to trace them."

Tara sighed at her computer. "How far back do you want to check?"

Myles pulled at his lip, his eyes still focused on the far wall. "Let's say the last two years. It often takes roses that long to really start thriving."

She let out a low whistle. "Wow, you don't ask much, do you? It can be done, but I can't even begin to give you a timetable."

"I bet you could start by eliminating the ones that don't carry black roses," Jack suggested.

"Ooh. Good thought." She sat down at the computer and began to work her magic.

"All right." Myles shook out of his thoughts. "There's not a lot more we can do tonight, so everyone go get some rest. We'll pick it up fresh in the morning."

It took about five minutes for the Bullpen to clear of everyone except Tara, Dimitrius and Myles. Tara tapped a few more keys on her computer, then stood up and grabbed her coat. "The query is running, but it'll still take most of the night, I'll wager," she said. "Good night."

"'Night, Tara," D called. Myles was still engrossed in the case files. Dimitrius sighed and walked over to the blond agent's desk. He leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. "You could use a break, too, you know."

"It's going to be in my head anyway," was the sardonic reply. "I might just as well stay here with it as go home."

The older agent shook his head. "You know, it's _not_ five years ago. You're not the same person who used to work 72 hours straight on a case until you passed out so deeply that the nightmares would stay away. You have something to go home _to_ now."

Myles looked up at him. "What? There's nothing waiting at home…" He trailed off, his blue-grey eyes widening. "Oh…you mean…?"

Dimitrius nodded. "Lucy told me Elizabeth called earlier. She said she'd have dinner ready at your house if we weren't going 24/7. _And_," he added, "you'd be surprised what a break like that can do for your thought processes, even if you tell her nothing about the case. "

The blond agent sat back and sighed. "I must admit, I wasn't really prepared for how draining it would be to go back to all this."

Dimitrius chuckled. "Trust me on this one, Myles. Go home for a while. Clear your head. You'll be surprised how much it helps."

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_Leland Home, Washington DC_

_Sunday, 30 May_

_5 p.m._

It was strange to drive up and see lights on in his house, but at the same time there was a comfort about it. As Myles walked in the front door, the strains of a Chopin nocturne reached his ears. He hung up his coat in the entryway closet, and walked into the kitchen.

What he saw there stopped him short— he'd never really thought about what Dimitrius had, with his wife and family, but now it rammed itself into his consciousness with force enough to drive out all thoughts of the case. Someone was actually waiting at home for _him._

Elizabeth was seated at the kitchen counter, her back to him, working on what looked like patient files. He watched her for a moment— her pen in her mouth, dark hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, long legs crossed— and was entranced all over again. _This certainly tops staring at crime scene photos_, he thought with a smile.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I _heard_ someone had broken into my house."

She smiled without turning. "That's what you get for handing out the key."

Myles chuckled and put his arms around her from behind, resting his cheek against hers. "Well, you're certainly the most beautiful perpetrator I've ever caught."

She put down her pen and leaned back against him. "Long day?"

"Incredibly. I somehow managed to get assigned as the case agent on this."

Elizabeth turned to face him. "You sound surprised it happened," she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He straightened and leaned back against the counter, his hands in his pockets. "It _doesn't _happen very often. I must admit, I tend to get a little carried away when there's a case to be solved and I feel responsible for solving it."

"Ah," she nodded, "Your passion overrules your people skills?"

"Something like that," he shrugged. "I believe Bobby resorts to calling me 'Mussolini' under his breath, or that's what it sounds like."

She laughed. "Well, then, your Dictatorship, let me put dinner in to heat up while you relax. There's already salad in the fridge if you want."

"Actually, a hot shower sounds better right now," he replied, stretching the kinks out of his back. "Do I have time before dinner's ready?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Go ahead. That will give me just enough time to finish up this report."

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_8 p.m._

"Can I ask you something?" Elizabeth came back over to the sofa after setting the wineglasses on the kitchen counter.

He pulled her down next to him and put his arm around her. "Sweetheart, you can ask me anything. You should know that by now."

"All right." She snuggled up next to him. "What would you have been doing tonight if I hadn't called?"

Myles let his breath out in a laugh. "Trying to stay awake for 72 hours straight."

"What?"

He chuckled again. "That's what I used to do on cases like this."

"Why?"

The smile faded a little. "Because that was the only way to stave off the nightmares I used to get when I worked in the Violent Crime Division. I was there for my first five years with the Bureau. Serial killers, rapists… sick, twisted individuals who had nothing better to do than inflict the maximum amount of pain they could on innocent people."

"Oh," she replied. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. Here I was trying to make you forget work, and I hash it all up again and worse."

Myles reached a hand over and stroked her cheek. "It's okay, love. Tonight...this is wonderful. Coming home and seeing you here, dinner, just being able to let something else fill me for a few hours... D was right. It helps. I feel like I can actually sleep tonight. Thank you." He drew her into a lingering kiss.

"You are _very_ welcome," she replied when he released her. "If it'll help, I'll be here every single night until your case is solved."

He looked at her for a minute, his gaze softening even further. "Just until the case is solved? What if I told you I'd been thinking about maybe keeping you around longer than that?"

Her eyes widened, but a mischievous smile lit her face. "I'd say it's about time."

Myles returned the grin. "I'm not saying I'm ready to get down on one knee just yet, but..." His eyes lit with mischief as well, and the grin broadened. "Besides, after the day I've had, I might not manage to get back up on my feet again."

Elizabeth laughed and kissed him again. "Well, when you decide it's not such a scary idea after all, you just let me know."

"Oh, I will," he replied, pulling her close, "and when I _do_, my dear, I shall do it in style. Have no fear of that."

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	4. Chapter 3: A Few Thorns of Our Own

**Chapter 3: A Few Thorns of Our Own**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, 31 May 2004_

_8 am_

Myles headed for the Bullpen in much better shape than he'd thought possible in the midst of such a case. Elizabeth had gone home at 10, since she had a seminar this morning before her appointments, but her presence last night had made the difference. His evening had been restful, his sleep dreamless, and he was ready to dive back into work with a vengeance.

Dimitrius, writing something on the board as Myles entered, looked over at him with a knowing smile. "Told you," he said quietly, grinning.

Myles altered his course toward his desk just enough to take him close to the older agent. "You did," he replied, lowering his voice as well. "And lunch is on me today, as thanks." He shed his suit coat, tossed it onto his chair, flipped open a file and rolled up his sleeves while he was reading it. He then picked it up and swung around.

"All right," he addressed the room. "What have we got new this morning?"

Tara was just finishing up stapling printouts as they gathered around. "That query you had me run?" she started, handing copies around. "The last two years' worth of mail orders from all the companies in the US that carry black roses. There weren't as many as I thought, but there's still a lot to go through."

"And," Bobby commented with a sigh, "odds are, ninety percent of them are little old ladies trying to impress the rest of their Garden Clubs." His tone indicated he didn't relish spending all day on the phone.

"Well, little old ladies or not," Jack grinned, "it needs to get done. Let's get to it."

Everyone called off a page to work on and headed for their desks— all except Myles. He was still standing by his desk, looking at the autopsy reports. He seemed completely lost in thought.

After a moment, Bobby looked up. "Patton not joining his troops in the trenches, mate?" he quipped.

Myles blinked, looked at the Aussie hard for a minute, then said, "Bobby, come with me."

The tone of his voice brought heads up all around, and even Levi was sufficiently spooked to place a paw on Sue's knee to get her attention. Myles strode out of the room and Bobby, with a raised eyebrow at Jack on his way by, followed without a word. They could tell he was gearing up for a verbal battle.

"Uh-oh," Tara said, "I wondered how long this would take."

**-!-**

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**-&-**

Myles was waiting for him in one of the conference rooms, his arms folded, staring out the window. Bobby leaned against the table, trying to gauge exactly how angry the blond agent was, and how far he could push before Myles rammed him up against a wall. He was generally pretty accurate— he'd only gotten to that wall once in the nearly four years they'd worked together.

Suddenly, Myles whirled to face him. "You're the chemist in our little group. Is there anything found naturally that could be distilled or otherwise turned into an injectable anticoagulant?"

The retort on Bobby's lips died instantly. "I— excuse me?"

"You heard me. Is there any way the Black Rose could cook up a batch of his very own 'bleeders' brew'?" Myles was dead serious, and Bobby realized the Harvard grad hadn't even heard his snide comment in the Bullpen.

The Aussie shook his head slightly, then stared into space for a moment, thinking. "I'd have to do a little checking on that, but it's possible. Where'd _this_ idea come from, anyway?"

Myles slapped the autopsy report against the table and leaned forward on his hands. "Because that's the _first_ thing they should have been able to trace in all this. If the Rose was buying it somewhere, it would leave _some_ kind of a trail. If it was disappearing from a hospital or a clinic, somebody would have reported it, certainly after that little tidbit was released to the media. But there's been nothing. I want to know _why_."

Bobby stared at him for a minute, stunned again at just how deeply his colleague was diving into the intricacies of this case, without the characteristic sarcasm that always seemed, strangely, to keep them all balanced on the keenest edge of their game. Then he nodded. "I'll go check with a friend of mine in the Biochemistry department at Georgetown. If anyone would know how to brew up a mix of something like that, she would." Myles motioned _go_ with his hand, and Bobby headed for the door.

"Oh, Bobby?" Myles hadn't moved.

"Yeah?"

"'Patton' will join his troops when he's finished with the battle plans, if that's all right with you." It was accompanied by an almost-grin, but the Aussie knew he'd struck a nerve just the same.

He nodded, sketched a salute at his friend, but the derisive tone was gone. "Righto, General Sir. I'll let you know what I find out."

**-!-**

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Bobby was back a couple of hours later; his friend at Georgetown University was doing a little research and would have an answer for him tomorrow. After his report, he grabbed a sheet of mail orders without complaint and got busy. By now Myles was working on that same project as well.

After a long day on the phones, they were all worn out, so they called it a night. Before he left, Myles spent another several minutes staring hard at the board, trying to figure out what he was missing. It was starting to eat at him that _something_ was just beyond his reach.

**-!-**

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Tuesday wasn't much better. Bobby and Jack came back from the university with less than satisfying news.

"It's more possible than I'd thought, and easier," Bobby said. "To the tune of a saline solution mixed with aspirin and warfarin." He paused to spell it for Sue. "It's prescribed for patients at risk for blood clots, which can cause strokes."

"But it's also used in your garden-variety rat poison," Jack continued. "You get someone with even a bit of chemistry knowledge, they can distill out the water-soluble portions of the rat poison, until it's just the warfarin."

"Shelley said it'd make the warfarin even more effective to mix it with aspirin, which is also a blood thinner," Bobby resumed. "The aspirin would just about double the efficiency of it."

"So there's no way to trace it," Dimitrius sighed, glancing over at Myles. He could see the vise starting to tighten on the taller agent's nerves as every possible lead came up empty.

"What did we end up with on the mail orders?" His voice revealed his tension as well.

Tara answered. "We still have a couple of pages to take care of, but so far nothing suspicious. Pretty much like Bobby said – 'little old ladies trying to impress their Garden Clubs.'"

Myles sighed. "I don't suppose ERT has come up with anything new?"

Jack shook his head. "If they have, they aren't telling us. I think Melanie's getting tired of me calling every hour."

**-!-**

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**-&-**

The frustration continued through Wednesday and Thursday as well. Every hour ticked off was one step closer to another murder, and there was _nothing_ to go on. Finally, they resorted to an all out free-for-all session over Chinese takeout Thursday evening. No idea would be considered too far-fetched to bring up.

Something, _somewhere_, had to give. Jack just hoped fervently that it wasn't going to be one of his team. The "countdown to disaster syndrome" was getting to all of them, but one colleague in particular was taking the brunt of it.

He watched Myles now, as the chatter wound back and forth across the room. The blond agent hadn't touched his food, and was staring off into space, absently twirling one of his chopsticks between his fingers. His expression indicated that he was listening intently to the ideas being tossed out, but nothing was clicking and it was slowly driving him to the edge.

More than once in the past four days, Jack had seriously considered reassigning the case to someone else. But he knew that if he did, Myles would take it as a personal failure and likely be worse than he was right now. He'd wait another day or so; if things got worse, he'd go talk to Garrett about it.

He stretched, listening as the banter blended together in his thoughts, became one mind…

"_Maybe the Rose has something against Ivy League? Harvard's in Cambridge, then Princeton?"_

"_Where does that leave Baltimore and DC? Johns Hopkins might be prestigious, but it's not Ivy League."_

_And Princeton's the only city where the victims were on a college campus."_

"_Well, how about just big cities? It does look like the Rose is working his way down the Eastern seaboard?"_

"_Then why Cambridge? You want a big city, Boston's right next door. And why skip New York?"_

"_Okay, apparently our connection isn't in the cities."_

_"What about that weird anticoagulant? If he's going to kill them anyway, why go to the trouble? Why not simply rip open their throats?"_

Jack jumped on that one and came out of his thoughts quickly. "You're right, Lucy. Why _not_ simply rip open their throats? It's this precision that gets me wondering. The Rose obviously has an agenda— there's too much careful planning in this, so that nothing is traceable, yet the victims seem to be random."

There was silence in the room as they all let that sink in, and Jack took the opportunity to steal a glance at Myles. The chopstick had stopped twirling, and a blue-grey glare seemed to be boring its way through the wall. After a moment, the blond agent slowly pulled his feet off his desk and sat up, still staring at the wall, but Jack suspected that _something_ had triggered a thought. "Myles?" he asked. He then motioned to the others to keep going with the current train of brainstorming.

Bobby picked up the signal immediately, and just started talking, letting the idea flow freely. "He picks out two girls in each city, for whatever reason. They're all mid-twenties to early thirties, all work in some kind of service-geared job. Ellen Nichols and Nancy Davis, in Cambridge, were a paralegal and an insurance agent, respectively."

"Esther Johnson was a graduate student at Princeton, in their Psychology department, and Leslie Dentin was an undergraduate in Education. Both of them were found in classroom buildings that were pretty much empty on the night in question. The Rose didn't want an audience."

Tara joined in. "In Baltimore, Elaine Foster was an interior decorator for the wealthier end of the city, found in a park where she often walked at night, but not many others did. The other victim, Amanda Dearborn, was a teacher, but—"

"Their professions had nothing to do with it." The soft voice startled them all into realizing just how quiet Myles had been all day. "_They_ have nothing to do with it." He was still staring at the wall.

"Then what—" Bobby started to ask a question, then realized he didn't know what _to_ ask after such a declaration.

Myles finally turned to them all, but he was looking straight at Dimitrius. "They're symbols."

The older agent's eyes got wide and he sat forward in his chair. "The Rose is hunting, and these are merely markers." Myles nodded.

Lucy waved a hand. "Okay, woah and back up. You lost me."

"Same here." It came from Bobby, Sue and Tara in chorus.

Myles cocked an eyebrow at Jack, who thought hard for a minute. "You mean, he's setting something else up, something that has nothing to do with any one of these girls, but somehow has something symbolic to do with _all _of them. His agenda is still somewhere down the road."

The taller agent nodded. "And we have no idea what that agenda is. But he chose Cambridge, Princeton, Baltimore and Washington DC for a specific reason. And he bothers with the anticoagulant because it allows all the life to drain from his victims, slowly, torturously if they'd been conscious. It's symbolic. If I had to wager a guess, it would be that if he reaches his intended target, he won't be so merciful. Whoever it is will be fully conscious for whatever he has planned."

Bobby's eyes were wide now as well. "So, if he sticks to his schedule, Sunday will be another 'calling card;' the exact same thing we saw with Eve Harcourt. Then what? Is he done?"

"He's either done, in which case he'll zero in on his prey next, or he has more cities to mark up before he's done," Dimitrius said gravely.

"So how can we stop him? We can't very well watch every woman in the DC area." Sue replied.

Myles turned and looked at the board and the table full of case files. He pointed to it as he turned back to face Sue. "The answer is in there somewhere. Finding it is our only chance."

**-!-**

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He'd declined to go home that evening, but chose instead to grab a few hours sleep on a cot in the lounge. It wasn't that he wouldn't have loved to spend another quiet evening with Elizabeth, but he felt he needed to stay and find some way to break through the wall surrounding them on this case.

_It's not like I've been very good company the past two evenings anyway, _he thought as he stared at the dark ceiling. _She could probably use a break._

He finally drifted off after a half hour of tossing and turning….

_Eve Harcourt's lifeless body stared up at him from the floor of the mall offices area, blood now flowing from her throat like a river. He backed away, only to bump into something else at his feet. He spun around and saw six more bodies, all freshly bleeding, staring at him in accusation. He looked around for a way out, but every door was shut and sealed. Blood was now up to his ankles. He turned around and saw a door that hadn't been there before, and he leapt for it, skidding slightly. It gave way, and he ran through it, slamming the door shut and leaning against it, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. Then a soft sound behind him made him turn— and gasp._

_He was in a garden. Beautiful roses surrounded him, every color of the spectrum, it seemed. They were in full bloom, carefully cared for, utterly perfect. He walked toward them, through them, marveling at the contrast between the scene he'd just left and this one._

_Suddenly, the roses opened into a small clearing. There, in the middle of it, was a stone bench with an eighth woman lying on it. He didn't recognize her, but she was very beautiful. Her eyes were closed, and a bouquet of white roses were loosely held in her hands, as if she'd fallen asleep while admiring them. He was drawn to her, even though some distant part of him was screaming to stay away._

_He knelt down next to her. As he reached for her slim hand, he heard a whisper echo across the garden:_

_O, snatched away in beauty's bloom,_

_On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;_

_But on thy turf shall roses rear_

_Their leaves, the earliest of the year;_

_And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:…_

_He watched in horror as vines began to shoot out of the ground all around the bench, twining around the woman's body, sealing her in. Just as they were about to reach her face, her eyes opened._

_Emerald green eyes...her hair turned raven's wing black, and blood-red tears streamed down her cheeks as the vines burst forth into roses. Black roses. A high-pitched laugh screeched across the sky as the vines closed over Elizabeth's face..._

Myles shot up off the cot, gasping for air. It took him a minute to register where he was, and every technique he'd learned in counseling to stave off a genuine panic attack. After a few minutes, he got up and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. _Here we go again_, he thought as he surveyed the haunted eyes in the mirror. _It always came back to someone I knew showing up in my nightmares. I never realized how much I HATED working in VCD— until now_.

**-!-**

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_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Friday, June 4 2004_

_7 p.m._

Myles had sent everyone else home again, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. He'd been over every report a dozen times at least, had spent so much time staring at the map and photos on the board that he could see them even when his eyes were closed.

He leaned back in his chair for a moment, running his hands through his hair and stretching a bit, trying to work a kink out of his neck. It didn't work— partially because the physical kink was only half the problem. It was Friday night; if the Black Rose held to his schedule, another body would turn up in less than 36 hours, and they had no idea who would be the victim or where they would be found. _He_ had no idea who or where, and it was eating at him like a colony of ants across his skin.

He stood abruptly, trying to shake off the frustration, pacing in an attempt to outdistance it. _One dead-end lead after another. Who is this nutcase, what does he or she want? Where's the pattern? A serial killer always has a pattern. Something, one small detail I'm missing. Why these women, these cities, why, why, WHY? _He doubled up a fist and drove it into the filing cabinet.

"Did that help?" A soft voice reached him, and he spun around to see Elizabeth leaning against the door frame.

"No!" It came out before he could stop it, and the rest followed as his frustration found a target and zeroed in. "Nothing helps! We have everything we can find on this guy, _everything_ I need to get inside his head and I'm hitting a brick wall! And nothing you, or anyone else, can do or say can change that! He's still out there, he's still hunting, and we're _this close_ to losing another life to this idiot's sick head!"

"You're doing the best you can, Myles." Her voice was even. "No one can expect more than that."

"It's not whether or not someone expects it, Elizabeth! It's what I _have_ to do! Those girls didn't expect to die, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. It doesn't matter what limits I think I have, I have to get past them and I _can't_."

She surveyed him thoughtfully for a moment. "Why do you have to do this alone? Where's the rest of the team?"

"I sent them home," he replied flatly, turning away. "I needed the quiet to think."

"Just because you're the case agent, it doesn't mean you have to do _all _the thinking." She put a bit of force into her voice to try to get her point across.

It was apparently the wrong moment, because he swung around, leveled a finger at her and growled, "I don't need an analysis, Elizabeth. So drop it."

"I'm not trying to—"

He cut her off. "Yes. You are."

"Now we're back to you reading my mind?" she snapped before she could bite it back. "We know how well that went the last time."

The retort stopped him only for a second. Then he turned, wrenched his chair out and dropped into it, picking up the reports again. "I have work to do."

She walked over to him, dropping a parcel onto his desk. "Fine. You want solitude, you've got it. There's dinner, by the way. I simply thought you could use a break from the hell you're putting yourself through. But you're enjoying it far too much. Good night." She strode out, not even giving him a backward glance.

Myles stared after her for a moment, not even fully realizing what had just happened. Then the rage at himself and the whole situation resurfaced and he slammed his fist against the filing cabinet again. It didn't help any more than it had the first time; still full of frustration, he bent back to the reports, scouring them yet again for the one detail he _knew_ he was missing.


	5. Chapter 4: When It Hits Home

**Chapter 4: When It Hits Home**

**-!-**

_Dillingham Home, Georgetown_

_Saturday, 5 June_

_1 p.m._

"Rachel, it was _awful_. I can't believe…" Elizabeth set down her teacup and dropped her head into her hands. " I went over there to try to help, and all I did was make things worse for him."

Rachel DeLacy folded her age-worn hands into her lap. "Now dearie, it can't have been that bad. He's under a lot of pressure right now."

"Most of it is pressure he's putting on _himself_, though," Elizabeth replied. "Why can't he just, for _once_, let the rest of them help? Why does he have to do it all himself?"

The old lady smiled and patted Elizabeth's shoulder. "Because that's who he is. I may have only met this Myles of yours a few times, but from everything you've told me about him, he's an intense, passionate young man who takes his job very seriously, even very _personally_. Given that he's in charge of this case, does it really surprise you that he's acting like this?"

The psychologist sighed. " I suppose not. But what do I do now?"

"Just wait a bit. Give him a little breathing room, even if you have to watch him breathe vacuum for awhile." Rachel's science-teacher persona peeked through, even though she'd been retired for several years. "I guarantee he feels as bad about your blow-up as you do. Now, I need to get back home before my grandkids show up for dinner tonight."

"I'll walk you over to your house." Elizabeth got their coats, and Rachel leaned on the younger woman's arm as they made their way across the street. When Rachel was safely on her front porch, Elizabeth gave her a big hug. "Rachel, you're the best. Where would you like to go for brunch tomorrow, after church? It's my treat."

The older lady smiled. "Let's do Mimi's, then. Those honey-peach muffins should shake off the rest of your melancholy. They always work for me."

**-!-**

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He was ready. One more calling card, and she would be his. And a wonderful opportunity had just presented itself. It would mean a slight change of plan, but nothing that would leave any concrete clues. He would sneak in like a midnight wind, and rip out her heart before she even realized what was happening. _Then_, the fun would begin, as he closed in on her right under their noses. A soft laugh escaped his lips.

It was perfect.

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_Sunday, June 6_

_9 am_

Elizabeth smiled as she stepped up onto Rachel's porch; a good night's sleep had done wonders, and she felt much better. She rang the doorbell and waited for an answer. A minute passed…two. She rang the bell again, then knocked. Still nothing.

"Rachel?" she called. _Maybe she overslept?_ A strange feeling was working its way into her heart, and she stooped to retrieve the spare key from under a pot of begonias by the door.

She walked in to silence. "Rachel? Are you all right?" The complete stillness of the house was starting to spook her as she walked into the kitchen…and screamed.

Quiet, gentle Rachel DeLacy was lying on her kitchen floor, a pool of blood fanned out from her throat like a crimson scarf, and a black rose nestled between her hands.

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After a second night of falling asleep at his desk, Myles had just about decided it was time for a real break. Unfortunately, it was Sunday morning, and he just knew that at some point a call would come in, broadcasting their— _his_ failure to track down the Black Rose.

The rest of the team had come in, but no one seemed to want to risk setting off his wrath again. He couldn't blame them; he'd taken his frustration about the case out on Elizabeth Friday night, then proceeded to take his frustration over their fight out on the team all day Saturday.

At 9:05, the phone rang. He was so weary over it all that he simply hit the speakerphone button. "Leland." His voice was tired, hard.

"Myles?" Elizabeth could barely hold back the gasping sobs.

"Elizabeth? What is it?"

"I think… you all had better… come over here. Rachel DeLacy, my friend… from across the street…you've met her….she's so very nice…"

"Elizabeth." He heard the near-hysteria in her voice. "You're not making any sense. Calm down and tell me what's wrong." Heads were up all over the Bullpen now.

"Rachel…she's dead…I found her… few minutes ago…with a black rose…" She collapsed into tears.

"All right. Stay there, sweetheart." The weariness in his voice was still there, but the hardness was gone. "Go out on the front step if you have to. Don't move her, don't touch anything, okay? We'll be right there."

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Tara sat on the steps of Rachel's house, her arm around Elizabeth. The psychologist's voice was quiet and raspy as she gave Bobby her statement. "…I walked into the kitchen, and found her there, in a pool of blood… so much blood…" she trailed off and laid her head down on her arms as the tears started again.

"You said you talked just yesterday. What about?" The efficiency he was trying to maintain was tempered by the sympathy in his voice.

Elizabeth looked up at him, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Rachel is…was a close friend, rather like a grandmother to me. I could talk things out with her. We were talking about… what happened Friday night, with Myles." She looked over at Tara. "I'm sorry…it's just hard sometimes to talk to you about it, because you work with him…"

Tara nodded. "I understand completely. No problem. To tell you the truth, I'd just as soon not hear about his love life."

The quip had the desired response, and Elizabeth laughed a little. "I know. Anyway," she continued, turning back to Bobby, "Rachel went home at about 1:30, and we made plans for me to pick her up for church and then take her out for brunch this morning. I came over at 9, rang the bell, and there was no answer. The spare key was under the flowerpot over there, so I let myself in, and found her there."

"Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt Rachel?"

She shook her head. "No. Rachel was the sweetest person you could imagine. She taught junior high school science for forty years, and only retired when her arthritis got so bad she couldn't stand in front of the class. There are hundreds of kids in this area who are third-generation 'DeLacy graduates.' Everyone here in the neighborhood loved her. She didn't have an unkind cell in her body, I swear."

Bobby closed his notebook and laid a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "You okay?"

The psychologist nodded, and dropped her head back onto her arms. Suddenly Bobby looked up, and he motioned to Tara. She glanced over her shoulder, gave her friend one last gentle pat on the back, and moved away with the Aussie.

Elizabeth didn't move until a soft voice spoke. "Come on. I'll take you home." She looked up into blue-grey eyes that were filled with sorrow, both for the present and past heartaches. Myles took both her hands in his and drew her to her feet.

She paused for a moment, hesitant, then leaned against him and let the rest of the tears fall. He put his arms around her, then looked over at Jack. "Can you take care of the rest of this? I'll meet you back at the Bullpen in maybe an hour."

Jack Hudson nodded in understanding. "Take what time you need, Myles. We're pretty familiar with your drill by now."

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He led her across the street, and sat her down on a swing she had in her front yard, sheltered by a vine-covered arbor from most of the neighborhood eyes. He sat down next to her, and she immediately moved into his arms, still crying. Myles just held her for a few minutes, his own heart squeezed with the pain of failure and knowing that her tears were a direct result of it.

After several minutes, she looked up at him, her green eyes still glistening. It took a single soul-penetrating gaze at him, and then she spoke quietly. "It's not your fault, love. Please. Don't think it's your fault."

His eyes dropped, and his voice betrayed his exhaustion. "I wasn't sharp enough, fast enough, and now your friend is dead. You tell me how it's not my fault."

She placed a hand on each of his cheeks and jerked his face upward. Her voice was low and angry. "Stop. Just stop it. I have listened to you beat yourself up over this all week, and I'm sick of it. How _dare_ you diminish the utter depravity of this killer by saying his deeds are your fault. _You_ didn't put the blade in his hand by not being able to find him— he picked up that knife of his own volition and drove it into Rachel by his own choice. Not yours."

Myles closed his eyes tightly as the weariness and the frustration threatened to spill over. "I want this killer _caught_. I want this over with."

"I know," she replied, her voice softening and her hands moving up to stroke his hair. "And all I want is to help you get through it sane. I'm so sorry about Friday night— I knew you were frustrated, and I let your outburst get to me."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and surprised. "I about rip your head off, and you're apologizing to me? I don't know what to say to that, except to apologize in return. I'm—"

She placed a finger over his lips. "You know, I think I'd rather have that apology in a different form." Her face brightened into a faint smile, and she raised a brow at him.

Myles was puzzled for only a moment. Then he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly, letting all the awkward words fall by the wayside in the simple action. He sighed as they parted. "I have to go."

"I know. And I need to call Rachel's son. But will you _please_ at least let me make dinner for you at home tonight? Just a couple of hours, I promise. You need it, love."

He nodded. "I'll try to get away at about 5. Are you going to be okay? Do you want to come in to the office with me?"

Elizabeth smiled, but shook her head. "No, you don't need me hanging around there while you all brainstorm. I think I will go over to your house after I talk to Connor, though. I don't want to see Rachel's house every time I pass a window."

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His perch in the oak tree had taken an hour to set up in the dead of night, but now it paid off in spades. The Black Rose watched eagerly, relished the sound of her scream. A pair of high-powered binoculars with anti-glare lenses brought every line of pain on her face so close he felt he could touch them, but he was well-hidden from any observer by the verdant growth of spring leaves.

He watched as the FBI questioned her, knowing that even _she_ didn't have a clue what was coming. Then he saw a tall, blond agent walk out of the house, his demeanor indicating that he was in charge. A quick glance at the morning papers' case articles for the past week revealed a name: Special Agent Myles Leland III, the case agent.

The Rose's heart quickened as he saw Agent Leland walk up to Dr. Dillingham and wrap his arms around her. He watched them walk across the street to her yard and sit down, shaded from view at all angles— except this one. The scene that played out before his eyes had him shaking in silent laughter. _She's dating a Fed, _he thought, noiselessly chortling. _Oh, this is TOO perfect._

He would rip her right out from under Agent Leland's protective watch, and then dare the FBI to find him before it was too late. The torment he could inflict on them both was just too sweet.

The Black Rose leaned back against the tree branch; it would be several hours before dark, when he would slip down and put the last part of his plan in motion. His eyes closed, and his dreams were filled with images of blood and roses.

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	6. Chapter 5: Calm Before a Storm

**A/N:** A little steam here, nothing major... :)

-!-

**Chapter 5: Calm Before a Storm**

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_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Sunday, June 6_

_4 p.m._

Jack turned from refilling his coffee and watched his team quietly brainstorming. They weren't any closer to answers, but things felt different— still determined, but calmer.

He didn't know what had transpired in the hour Myles was absent, but he sent a silent _thank you _heavenward above for whatever Liz had said to the tall agent. He still looked worn out and frustrated, but, somehow, it was no longer personal. Jack's talk with Garrett wouldn't be necessary now – he could feel that.

_She's the best thing that's ever happened to him,_ he thought. _I hope I find someone like that someday._ As he came out of his thoughts, he realized he'd been staring at Sue, and she was now looking at him quizzically.

Jack blinked, then signed, _Nothing. I was just lost in thought._

She gave him a bright smile and replied, _You going to join us, or have you not found your way back yet?_

He grinned and shook a finger at her as he walked back over to the group.

"Something's different with this one," Myles was saying. "Something very subtle, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, let's just talk it through and see what jumps out at us," D replied. "At 1:30 p.m., Elizabeth walked Rachel back over to her house. They made plans to attend church together this morning, and then go have brunch."

"Liz said Rachel's son and his family were coming over for dinner last night." Bobby picked up the narrative. "I spoke with Connor DeLacy a couple of hours ago, and he said they were there until about 9 p.m. Rachel was headed for bed, and they saw her begin shutting off the lights as they pulled out. He said his mother was known for going to bed early, then being up at 4 a.m."

"The coroner placed the time of death between 4 and 4:30," Tara added.

"So the Rose was waiting for her." Lucy's eyes were wide at the thought.

Bobby nodded, and continued. "And from what Elizabeth said, Rachel DeLacy had pretty bad arthritis in her knees and hips. She wouldn't have been able to put up much of a struggle."

"_There's_ something different," Sue pointed out. "All the other victims were between 25 and 35. Rachel DeLacy was 80 years old."

"Might simply be that his original target fell through somehow," Jack commented. "Everything else was identical: the chloroform, the anticoagulant, the cut in her throat, the poem, the rose tossed onto her body—"

Myles suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he cried. "The rose!"

"What about it?" The question came out almost simultaneously from Bobby and Jack.

Myles shuffled through the case files and pulled out a photo from each one. "Take a look," he said, laying the pictures out in order. "What do you notice?"

There was silence for a minute. Then D pounced on the last one. "Rachel DeLacy! In all the other photos, the rose is just kind of thrown on top of the bodies. But in Rachel's case, her hands are folded over it very precisely. That was done deliberately." He looked up at all of them gravely. "The Black Rose is finished with his hunt."

Myles nodded, and his voice was deathly still. "Whoever his prey is, they're most likely here in DC."

**-&-**

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_Leland Home, Washington, DC_

_5 p.m._

He found her curled up on the sofa in his study, thumbing through a book of poetry from his literary collection. The wonderful aroma of her lasagna wafted through the house, the music was classical guitar this time, and he was again struck by the coziness of the whole setting.

Myles knelt down in front of her. "You okay?"

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise; then a smile brightened her face, and she nodded. "Yes. I found some poems Rachel used to quote to me, and it just prompted a wash of wonderful memories. It will take a long while, I think, to erase the image from this morning, but I'm okay." She gently stroked his cheek. "You look absolutely exhausted."

He nodded, ending the gesture with his eyes down. "That would be an understatement. But I don't have to go back to the office tonight. They didn't do a full autopsy on Rachel, just the toxicology report. It's all a match."

"Connor will be glad to hear that," Elizabeth said softly. "He was a little concerned about whether he should plan an open-casket service for her. But I'm glad you're home for the evening." Suddenly, a ringing of a bell from the kitchen got their attention. "Well, dinner's ready, and then you can get some sleep."

As they walked out to the kitchen, Myles noticed a pilot's case leaned against the island counter. "What's this?"

Elizabeth replied, "Oh. Uh..." She sighed. "Would it be okay if I crashed in your guest room tonight? I just...I don't want to go back over there. Not tonight."

He drew her into his arms and kissed her cheek. "It's fine. I'm getting rather used to you being here most of the time, anyway. And I think I'd just as soon not be alone tonight, either— too quiet."

She laughed softly. "I thought you _liked_ the quiet, so you could think."

"Exactly." His reply was infinitely weary. "Thinking is not on my preferred list of activities tonight."

Dinner was quiet, for the most part. When they were finished, she started to put things away. Myles came over to her and took the dish she was holding. "You don't have to do this, you know. You're not my housekeeper."

"No, I'm your girlfriend," she replied with a smile. "And you need some sleep. It will only take me a minute to clean up, anyway."

"Thank you, then." He sighed and handed the dish back to her. Then a twinkle lit his eyes. "You're certainly _prettier _than my housekeeper." He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. "Hmm...sweeter, too."

Her eyebrows went up. "And _how_ would you know that?" Before he could answer her, she waved a hand at him, laughing. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"It's good to hear you laugh." Myles' next comment was interrupted by a monstrous yawn.

Elizabeth smiled and gave him a gentle push toward his room. "Go get some sleep. Now. I'll see you in the morning."

**-&-**

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11 p.m.

It came again - the same dream, the same women, the roses...all of it. The only difference was that now there were eight faces staring at him…at first…

_Her eyes were closed, and a bouquet of white roses were loosely held in her hands, as if she'd fallen asleep while admiring them. He was drawn to her, even though some distant part of him was screaming to stay away._

_He knelt down next to her. As he reached for her slim hand, he heard a whisper echo across the garden:_

… _O, snatched away in beauty's bloom,_

_On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;_

_But on thy turf shall roses rear_

_Their leaves, the earliest of the year;_

_And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:…_

_He watched in horror as the roses in her hands began to turn red, even as her skin turned white. It was as if they were draining the very life from her. Her face changed; her hair became the velvet blackness of a raven's wing… "No," he whispered, "Please, no, not again…"_

_The roses in her hands were almost black now, her face almost lifeless as the vines began to shoot out of the ground all around the bench. He grabbed her, trying to pull her toward him, but she wouldn't budge. Emerald eyes opened, and she looked at him as if she were saying, "Farewell, my love."_

_The vines crept further up the bench, starting to twine around her, and the blood-red tears began to fall across her cheeks as he screamed in horror._

"_Elizabeth! Noooooooooooo!"_

_The vines of bleeding black roses engulfed her and choked out any remaining life..._

**-&-**

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"Elizabeth! Noooooooooooo!" It brought her out of a sound sleep, and she was across the hall before she had her robe fully on over her pajamas. What she saw made her stop trying to put it on, and just tossed it aside.

Myles was tangled in the bed clothes, still thrashing about. Sweat glistened in the thin light from the hallway, and soaked the sheets holding him captive. His mouth moved in a silent refusal, his face contorted with a haunted pain.

"Myles?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him with enough force to wake him.

He sat up abruptly, his breath coming in tortured gasps, still fighting with the sheets. It only took her a second to realize he was in a full-blown panic attack, and she grabbed him by both shoulders.

"Myles! It was a dream. Just a dream. You need to calm down." His eyes locked with hers, and she saw recognition. Desperate hands clamped over her arms as he tried to draw a full breath. She held the gaze, talking softly to him as he fought for control. After a few tense minutes, his breathing started to slow, and the pressure on her arms lessened.

"Let me get you some water." He nodded, finally extricating himself from the tangle of sheets. He wrapped his arms around his own bare shoulders and leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed.

Elizabeth got a cup from the bathroom and filled it, then turned back toward him. Shirtless, still shaking from whatever nightmare had gripped him, he looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him, and tears stung her eyes at the sight. She came back over and took his hand, wrapping his cold fingers around the cup. "Here."

He took a long drink, then placed the cup on the nightstand. For a moment, his eyes dropped and she thought he was going to put his emotional walls back up. Before he could do it, though, she reached out and stroked his cheek. "It's all right, love," she whispered. "I'm here."

He hesitated only a moment. Then it all spilled over at once, and he clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder and letting all the tension and fear pour out. She held him tightly, offering whatever silent comfort she could, knowing that if she spoke too soon he would retreat behind the walls again, and that it would do more damage to him to only get out half of the anguish.

After several minutes, Myles breathed a deep sigh into her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Her voice was soft, but it held a trace of exasperation. "Finally proving that you're as human as the rest of us? That doesn't need an apology. It deserves a medal."

His breath came out in a short laugh, and he looked up into her eyes. "Thank you."

Elizabeth gently brushed at the tears still on his face. "You are very welcome, my love. It's nice to know you trust me enough to share all your pain, instead of just bits and pieces."

Myles sighed again. "I think you're only the second woman in my adult life who has seen me cry."

She smiled. "So how come you didn't snatch up the first one when you had the chance?"

He chuckled, his eyes far away for a moment. "No, over the long term I think we might have killed each other."

They talked for about an hour longer, and he drifted back to sleep. Elizabeth, curled up next to him on top of the bedding, ran her hand lightly over his blond hair, debating whether to go back to her room or just stay. After a few minutes, she sighed, got up and grabbed the quilt that was folded up on the nearby armchair. She lay back down, spread out the quilt over herself, then rested her head against his shoulder, and was asleep within minutes.

**-&-**

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_Monday, 7 June_

_6 a.m._

Some distant professional part of her knew _why_ it was happening; what they had shared the night before hadn't been intimate in the romantic sense of the word, but holding him, her hands against his skin, had been the closest they'd been during their relationship. It was all a very normal reaction, the analyst in her mind was saying, but her subconscious didn't care. The dream was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, so vivid in sensation that she thought she'd be more than happy to die this way.

A soft moan escaped her lips, and she whispered something too softly for him to make out as he stirred and looked over at her. Myles started to wake her, thinking she was having a nightmare as well, then stopped when he heard the sigh that followed. A smile touched his lips; he knew that sigh all too well, having had a few dreams of his own like that.

He turned his eyes away for a moment, as a gentleman would, and glanced at the clock. _Oh dear,_ he thought, _we're both going to be late for work if we don't hurry up_. He placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Elizabeth."

She stirred, and he ran his hand lightly down her arm. Another sigh escaped her, and then she woke up with a gasp. She was faced away from him, so he couldn't see her face, but she seemed to be having a hard time figuring out where she was. Then her breathing slowed, and she ran a hand over her face, as if to shake off the dream. He smiled again, then leaned over so that his lips were right next to her ear without actually touching her.

"Good morning."

She gasped again, then looked over her shoulder at him. "_Where_ did you learn that?"

"What?"

"That velvet baritone purr that just about buckles my knees every time you use it on me."

His smile turned into a roguish grin. "I don't think my voice had anything to do with it this morning. Nice dream?"

She felt her face grow warm, and her eyes dropped. "You could say that," she said quietly.

Myles slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "I hope I was in it." He purposely tried to keep his voice a little more neutral, but he couldn't resist teasing her.

Her breath came out in a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Of _course_ you were in it. You're the only man I've ever even come _close_ to—" She stopped abruptly.

"You mean...ever?" It wasn't that he was shocked, just...well, maybe that _was_ a good word at the moment.

Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks coloring again almost to the deep pink of her Oriental-patterned silk pajamas. "Well, a couple of guys in college _tried_, but…yes, ever. It's just…I remember having a conversation with my grandmother when I was about 15. She wasn't really prudish, but she felt very strongly about some things, and she made sure I knew it. I'll tell you, it was a strange feeling, discussing human intimacy with her."

He laughed softly. "I can imagine, at age 15."

"Anyway," she continued, "the one thing I remember most was her saying that it was the most wonderful thing God had ever created, and that it was worth waiting for the right person to share it with. And not just _finding_ the right person; it was worth waiting for the vow to go along with it."

He was silent for a minute, resting his cheek against her hair. The initial shock had given way to something else; a bit of awe that there really were still "old-fashioned girls" out there, and he'd been fortunate enough to find one.

"Sounds like your grandmother is a wise lady," he said at last.

Elizabeth turned over to face him again. "Yes, I think she was."

He twined his fingers through hers and raised her hand to his lips. "Well, I must say that…" He trailed off as he noticed something on her forearm. "Where did you get—?"

She looked as well, and saw five oval-shaped bruises on her arm. The other arm revealed the same thing. "I don't know, I…"

Myles gasped as the previous night's events came back, and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, my… Did _I_ do that to you last night? Elizabeth, I—"

She turned to face him fully and pressed a finger onto his lips. "Myles, you were in the middle of a panic attack, and I'm not going to have you apologizing for something you had no control over." He started to protest, and she cut him off with a shake of her head. "I mean it. My arms have always bruised easily, anyway— I've had patients do far worse than this, believe me."

"It still doesn't excuse—" Myles stopped as she raised a brow at him, then continued with a different tack, his voice softening. "I don't ever want to hurt you. I hope you know that."

Elizabeth's smile brought a glow to her whole face. "I know," she whispered.

"I do think I should do _something_ to help, though," he replied, a grin slowly taking shape.

Both brows went up this time. "And what might that be?"

He didn't answer, just took both of her hands and very gently kissed each bruise. Then he gave her a look that made her shiver, and leaned down until he was only an inch from her lips. "May I?"

She had to take a breath before she could answer. "Lying here in your bed, with only a sheet and a blanket between us, after the dream I had and your kisses just now? I'm not sure how safe that is; not because of you, love, but because of me."

His soft laugh warmed her even further. "Then I suppose I'll have to be gentleman enough for both of us."

The first kiss was gentle, the slightest brush of his lips against hers. The second, however…his hand stroked her cheek, then slid around to cradle her head and draw her closer to him. His tongue slowly caressed first her lower lip, then the upper. Elizabeth sighed and opened her mouth to tangle her tongue with his, then shivered again as he began to explore the corners of her mouth. A soft sound much like in her dream escaped her, and she brought her hands against the warmth of his chest and up around his shoulders.

Just as she was about to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him toward her, he drew back and placed a single chaste kiss on her nose. "We're going to be late for work."

Elizabeth stared at him for a minute, trying to get her brain functioning again. "What?"

He chuckled at her. "I said, we're going to be late for work. Something affecting your hearing, sweetheart?"

"Oh! You—" She reached back and a pillow struck him in the face. Then she started giggling as well.

Myles just grinned at her again. "You do realize," he said, "_that_ little attack now gives me an opportunity to find out something I've always wondered about you." Both her brows shot up again, and his grin broadened. "Whether or not you're ticklish."

"Myles Leland, don't you dare!" She tried to slide out of his grasp, but he held her tight and poked her gently in the ribs. She started laughing and was soon gasping for breath.

He let her go and she jumped off the bed, still laughing. "You'll pay for that someday."

"I look forward to it," he grinned back. "Now, we're really going to be late. There'll be hot water even with both showers going at once, so—"

Elizabeth waved a hand at him. "Love, after this morning, I'm not even going to turn the hot water _on_."

**-&-**

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7 a.m.

He was thumbing through the stack of mail on the kitchen counter when she came out of the guest room. A grin found its way to his face behind his coffee cup. "You awake now?" he teased.

Elizabeth swatted him on the shoulder, then picked up the coffee he'd poured for her. "You're lucky I'm coming anywhere _near_ you after all that."

He was opening an envelope, and didn't look up as he answered. "After what? The tickling or the kissing?"

"Both." She slipped a arm around his waist. "Something of interest?"

"A note from my father," he replied. "Apparently his friend at the Argentine embassy invited him and my mother to a dinner of some sort next Sunday night. Dad's inviting us to join them."

"I would love to see them again. But how will that work out with your case still open?"

Myles glanced at her, a smile on his face. "Sweetheart, unless the Black Rose is camped on my doorstep, I will find a way to work in a few hours for dinner and dancing with you. How's your tango?"

Elizabeth actually paled. "Uh, Myles, I…"

"What? I know you _must_ have had the same mandatory ballroom lessons I did when we were teenagers. In fact, with Boston and Cambridge so near to each other, we probably had the same teachers. The names Richard and Alice Cohen ring a bell?"

She laughed faintly, although the color didn't come back to her cheeks. "As a matter of fact, they do. I just about lamed Richard permanently with a pair of stiletto heels when he was trying to teach me to tango. You'd be taking less of a risk having the Rose on your doorstep."

Myles chuckled and kissed her on top of her head. "I think I'll take my chances. So pull out your prettiest party dress, lovely lady. We have a date Sunday night, if we don't get fired for being late."

**-&-**

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	7. Chapter 6: Gardens and Goodbyes

**Chapter 6: Gardens and Goodbyes**

_Monday, 7 June_

_8:15 am_

The complete emotional release and subsequent dreamless sleep, along with a very refreshing morning, had done wonders for his psyche, even if it hadn't done much in the way of the case. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it as he maneuvered through rush-hour traffic. The case would come; it was only a matter of time with their unit.

He was just pulling out his cell phone to call Jack when it rang, startling him enough that he was glad traffic was slow. "Leland," he said.

"Gee, what a coincidence. So's this." A familiar voice brought a smile to his face.

"Sam! What's going on?"

"You tell me, bro. You got some seriously weird dreams running through your head right now, or is this punishment for missing some important date again? I might have to send Gregory down there if you tell me you got drunk."

"No, no," Myles replied, "I'm sorry about the dreams. We have rather an intense case going on right now, and it tends to crawl into my subconscious."

"Oh...are you okay?" Sam's voice was suddenly hesitant, but gained momentum with his next questions. "I mean...does Liz know? Why are you dreaming about Tara dying? Because it's totally not cool."

Myles had just reached his parking spot, fortunately, because he stopped abruptly. "Tara? Tara's not in my dream. What are you seeing?"

"Uh..." Sam paused, and Myles heard him muttering something to 'Fin before returning his attention to the phone call. "Well...it's hazy. There's a garden and flowers and Tara dies. It's disturbing. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, really," Myles replied. "Tara? That's strange. In my dream, it's Elizabeth."

"Jeez...that's really strange. Have you talked to her about it?"

"The details? No...but she was there when I woke up screaming last night—" Suddenly, he realized exactly what he'd said.

Sam whistled, and Myles could hear the mischievous grin when he spoke. "Really? Now that's interesting. Do I need to come back and play chaperone?"

"Ha, ha." Myles paused as he thought how best to explain what little he could say. "Have you seen the paper this morning?"

"Yeah! You saw that, too? I'm so glad they're having the Nintendo Expo in New York this year, because I hate flying to Cali—" There was an abrupt stop to the flow of conversation, and then Sam realized softly, "Oh. You mean the front page..."

"Yes," Myles replied, a fond smile touching his lips. Some things about Sam would never change, and he wasn't sure any longer that he wanted them to. "The latest victim...was a good friend of Elizabeth's. She lived right across the street. In fact, Elizabeth was the one who found her. She stayed in the _guest _room last night, because she didn't want to see Rachel's house every time she looked out the window."

"Oh." Sam replied quietly. "Tell her I said I was sorry, will you?"

"I will. I think I'll also ask her about what you're seeing as you catch part of my dreams. I've never heard of anything like that happening before." He brightened, glad that Sam had called and not wanting to leave his twin depressed all day. "Hey, I have to go. I'm already late for work. But give 'Fin a scratch around the ears for me, and tell Gregory I said hi. I'm okay, Sam, really. I'll call you later."

"As long as you don't forget." Sam chastened, his tone light and jestful again. "Or I'll just have to call you at the most annoying moment I can think of. G'bye, bro."

Myles hung up the phone, chuckling as he remembered a moment earlier when a phone call would indeed have been...inopportune.

**-!-**

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**-&-**

It was only when he stepped out of the elevator and heard voices in the Bullpen go abruptly quiet that he remembered the weekend he'd put the rest of the team through. While it was true that Sunday afternoon had been calmer, he could feel the tension still clear out into the hallway. He paused for a moment outside the doorway, debating how to handle it.

_You're the case agent_, he thought. _Technically, you're in charge._ _They say the captain should never apologize...still, this level of tension isn't going to bring out our best. I need to do or say something._

He pondered that a bit more; then a thought popped into his head he'd never dreamed would: _What would Jack do?_

For all the grief he'd given his unit leader over various things, he knew that it was Jack Hudson's leadership and ability to get them past each other that made the team the crack unit it was. He thought for a minute more, then took a breath and walked into the Bullpen.

"What do we have, then? Anything new?" The neutral tone in his voice, coupled with the lightness in his step, seemed to have the effect of a breeze sweeping through the room and clearing the tension.

Tara got up and walked over to him, a file in hand. "Actually, yes. On the tail end of that list of mail-orders for black roses were a handful of what you'd call 'governmental rehabilitation' projects."

"'Governmental rehabilitation'?" He thought for a minute, then gave her a piercing glance. "You mean as in prisons?"

She nodded as the rest of the team gathered around. "That's right. There were about ten federal prisons on the list."

Sue looked confused. "Why would federal prisons be ordering roses?"

"Most prisons, even the maximum security ones, have some sort of rehabilitative programs for the inmates," Dimitrius explained, fingerspelling R-E-H-A-B-I-L-I-T-A-T-I-V-E. "GED courses, sometimes various art media...or gardening."

Bobby continued, "The programs aren't designed for just any prisoner - obviously, they're not going to trust someone with a history of violence with a deadly weapon near a pair of pruning shears. But those who earn 'model prisoner' status...sure."

"So we're looking at maybe an ex-con?" Jack asked. "But he'd still have to order his own stuff once he got out of jail, wouldn't he?"

"Maybe," Myles replied, staring at the wall again in thought, "maybe not. No reason a guard would be suspicious about an inmate wanting to pass a rose cutting to a visitor. Tara?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's get the details on that handful of orders. We may be jumping the gun on this, but it's _something_."

He turned to the rest of the group as she sat back down at her computer. "Let's try taking it from the top again. Everyone grab a case file, starting with Rachel DeLacy and working back. I know they're not the Rose's primary target, but something about them has _got_ to reveal what his agenda is. Let's take each piece of the puzzle individually and in sequence." He picked up Rachel DeLacy's file and headed for his desk.

Bobby had headed for the coffee station first, so D took the opportunity to walk over and lean against Myles' desk. "Glad to see something finally unwound you," he said, very softly.

Myles looked up at him, his voice equally quiet. "Why do I get the feeling you've been holding out on me all these years?"

"What?" D chuckled. "About the advantages of married life and having someone there? You'd never have believed me. It's totally subjective. How's Liz doing, anyway?"

Bobby was sitting down at his desk and had caught only the last question. "Yeah, she okay after yesterday?"

Myles nodded. "I think so. She said the image of finding Rachel would probably stick with her for awhile, but she seems to be all right. Rachel's funeral is tomorrow, so I think that will give her some closure as well."

"Hey, you think the Rose might show up at the funeral?" the Aussie asked. "Serial killers have done stranger things, and it does seem that she was his last 'calling card'."

Myles leaned back in his chair at that. "Hmm...might be worth a surveillance just in case. Let me give Elizabeth a call and find out the details, then we can set something up." He gave Bobby a grin. "Good idea...for once."

**-!-**

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**-&-**

_St. Vincent's Cathedral_

_Tuesday, 8 June_

_10 am_

_Why you, my friend? What could this maniac possibly have against you?_ Elizabeth looked at Rachel DeLacy's placid face for a long time, her thoughts full of fond memories, mixed with a lingering confusion. She was calm now, standing at the side of the casket, her hand resting against the satin lining. _What drew him to you?_

Last night had been harder. Connor, Rachel's son, had asked her if she would be able to help prepare his mother's body for the funeral. Elizabeth had gone home afterward and cried herself to sleep over the loss of her friend, the same questions screaming in her head.

Even a late phone call from Myles hadn't truly helped; she had simply needed sleep to wash away the last traces of grief. Awaking this morning, she had looked out her front window for the first time in two days without feeling horror; now she had been able to picture Rachel out in her beautiful garden, pulling weeds from amid the hollyhocks or cutting tulips to surprise a neighbor. She had felt a gentle hand brush her shoulder, and she knew that Rachel was at peace.

Elizabeth brushed the gray curls back from Rachel's pale brow one last time. "Goodbye for now, dear friend," she whispered.

**-!-**

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_11 a.m._

They had set up a bit earlier in the morning, so as not to disturb the sobriety of the service. Thanks to modern technology, only three members of the team were needed inside the chapel: Myles and Bobby on either side, near the back, and D positioned above in the choirloft.

As the service ended, and family and friends congregated near the front, talking quietly, Bobby walked over to his colleague. "Guess the Rose had other plans for today," he said softly.

"It would appear so," Myles replied as Dimitrius came down the stairs to join them. "Tara," he said into his radio. "Do you see _anyone_ who looks…conspicuous?"

A short laugh sounded in his ear. "You mean, besides the three of you huddled together? Nope, nobody."

The blond agent sighed. "Time to pack up then, before the press shows up outside."

"Uh…too late, I'm afraid, Myles," was the sober reply. "They're already here."

"Great. Just wonderful." The tone of his voice indicated just the opposite. He took a deep breath and walked outside.

The cacophony that met him was familiar, as was his annoyance at it. It was times like this he envied Sue her silent world. He didn't have to approach them; they congregated around him like seagulls to a fishing boat.

"Agent Leland—"

"What can you tell us—"

"Is it true that—"

Myles held up a hand and raised his voice. "There is a press briefing today at 3 p.m., I will answer your questions to the best of my ability at that time, not before." He pushed his way through the crowd and walked over to where Jack was leaned up against a car.

"What a mess," the dark-haired agent observed.

Myles nodded, and pulled out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial. "Elizabeth?" he said quietly when she answered. "You might want to have Rachel's family hold off a bit before you all come out. The press is out here, and Connor's likely to get mobbed. Since they undoubtedly know by now that you're the one who found her, they'll probably do the same to you."

He listened for a moment, and Jack watched his expression change to a mixture of surprise and respect. "He does? Will you tell him 'thank you,' from all of us, please?"

Another moment of silence, and then Myles chuckled. "I'll tell her. I'll see you later, then." He hung up and looked at Jack. "You're not going to believe what we're about to witness."

They turned, and watched the church doors open. Connor DeLacy stepped out and marched purposefully toward the cluster of reporters. They flocked around him, and the barrage began again.

"Mr. DeLacy—"

"How do you feel—"

One voice raised over all the rest. "Mr. DeLacy, how do you feel knowing that the FBI's failure to track down this serial killer directly resulted in your mother's death?"

Bobby's head snapped up as he recognized the voice. It was Darcy.

Connor DeLacy looked her right in the eye. "Miss D'Angelo, isn't it?" She nodded. "I'm actually very glad you asked that, because it saves me from having to answer that same question from all of you."

Microphones came at him from all directions. He drew himself very straight and his voice resonated enough for everyone to hear very clearly.

"How do I feel? I feel grateful that the FBI is not giving up on tracking down this serial killer. My mother's death was _not _the result of their failure; it was the direct result of a madman's _choice_ to take another human life. I certainly hope that the Black Rose is caught soon, but I will not add to the problem by blaming those who are trying to catch him or her." He looked over the top of the sea of heads to where the team was congregated. He gave a brief nod to them, a gesture of thanks, then turned back to the press. "Now, if you will excuse us, we will finish burying my mother."

He turned and opened the church doors, and Rachel's family and friends began to make their way to their cars.

Bobby was about to go have a word with Darcy when Myles stopped him. "Look," he murmured.

The Aussie did so, and saw Elizabeth walk past Darcy and sign _Thank you_, at such an angle that few others would have caught it. Darcy gave a single brief nod and a conspiratorial smile, then headed for her car as well.

"That was planned," Dimitrius said, a bit amazed.

Myles nodded. "Connor wanted to make sure that the right question was asked for what he wanted to say."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_Dillingham Home, Georgetown_

_Tuesday, 7 p.m._

Elizabeth sighed as she walked slowly through her front door. It had been a very long day with Rachel's family, and she was ready to just curl up in a chair and let the silence finish off the healing process.

She stopped when she heard the clink of dishes coming from the kitchen. _What—?_ A sudden fear gripped her heart, and she inched back to the entryway, grabbing an umbrella from the closet, thankful she'd left that door ajar.

She crept back toward the kitchen, wielding the umbrella like a baseball bat, and flattened her back against the pantry cabinet. She very slowly peeked around the edge of the cabinet, half-expecting...

"Elizabeth? Is that you?"

She drew in a sharp breath, then stepped out from behind the cabinet. "_Myles?_"

He was pulling something out of the oven and setting it on the counter. "Hi. I thought I'd surprise you with dinner for a change. Well, it's out of your freezer, so I can't take credit for it, but—" He stopped as he noticed the umbrella.

She quickly slipped it behind her back. "I...well, thank you, love. I wasn't expecting you..." She trailed off as he gave her a piercing look; then she sighed. "Guess the last few days have me wound up a bit, huh?"

He immediately came over and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry I frightened you," he said softly.

Elizabeth dropped the umbrella and returned the hug. "It's all right," she replied. "We've just ended up at your house so often lately that I'd actually forgotten you had a key. And I'm assuming you parked in the garage..."

Myles stroked her dark hair. "I didn't think about how you'd feel in hearing someone moving around in your house after the past few days. I'm—"

She cut him off with a quick kiss. "Apologizing entirely too much lately. It's bad for your image, you know." She gave him a bright smile.

He laughed. "So it is. But you see right through it anyway, so around you it doesn't matter. By the way, I did tell Tara you could do Coffee Club tomorrow, and she's ecstatic. She said to tell you she'd be there at 6:30...we're getting some early mornings in right now. So, you hungry?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Dinner and a quiet evening with my 'special agent' sounds like the perfect prescription right now."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_Washington, DC_

_Tuesday, 11 p.m._

He looked around the small area in deep satisfaction. Everything was ready. In a very short time now, his prey would be ensnared and he would toy with her, like a cat before devouring a mouse. The psychologist would know the extent to which head games could be played, and the thought made him laugh, softly at first, then growing until it echoed through the room with wonderful resonance.

"Soon, my dear," he whispered. "Soon it will begin, and you will rue the day you ever laid eyes on me."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**


	8. Chapter 7: Caught in the Headlights

**Chapter 7: Caught in the Headlights**

_Jefferson's Coffee House, Washington D.C._

_Wednesday, 9 June_

_6:30 am_

The Coffee Club had been on hiatus for about three months, since Elizabeth had a series of seminars that clashed repeatedly with the FBI ladies' schedules. But this morning they were back in session, and Elizabeth was ready for some serious girl talk to put her life back on track completely.

While Lucy and Tara were getting the coffee, Sue and Elizabeth were perusing various sections of the morning paper. Most prevalent was the front page headline: **BLACK ROSE VICTIMS STAND AT 8**. A map was inset against the latest photo, showing the locations of the eight victims.

"Looks like a road map of my life," Elizabeth murmured as she glanced up at the paper in front of Sue.

Sue's face was angled just enough that she caught the movement of Elizabeth's lips. "What was that?" she asked.

The psychologist started a little. _Sorry_, she signed. _Thinking out loud._ She indicated the newspaper article. _I said, this looks like a road map of my life._

Tara and Lucy returned to the table with coffee just in time to see Sue frown. "What's up?" Tara asked.

"Liz, tell them what you just told me."

Elizabeth looked puzzled. "Why? It was just an offhand comment."

Sue nodded. "I know. Just humor me for a minute."

"Ok." Elizabeth pulled the paper over in front of her and pointed to the map in the article. "I was telling Sue that this looks like a road map of my life." Her finger tracked down the page as she explained. "I was born in Cambridge, went to college at Princeton, did an internship with the Baltimore court system, and now I live and work here in D.C."

Lucy piped in. "But it's not like anyone would ever want to hurt you, I wouldn't think."

Sue was still frowning. "The court system?"

The psychologist nodded. "It was while I was getting my masters' degree, eight years ago or thereabouts. I did a handful of fitness interviews— you know, the defendant wants to plead not guilty by reason of insanity, or just seeing if they're fit to stand trial."

Tara was starting to frown now, too. "Any of the people you interviewed particularly unhappy with the outcome?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Not that I recall." She looked at her watch. "Oops— gotta run ladies. I have an early patient, and I'm putting lunch together for all of you. I'll bring it over around noon."

"Wow!" Lucy grinned. "What did we do to deserve that?"

"Just figured you could all use a break from the takeout scene," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "I'll see you later." She picked up her coffee and left.

Tara looked over at Sue. "I think I don't like that look. What are you thinking?"

Sue frowned again. "I'm thinking there's something I want to check out and completely exhaust before I dare to give up on it. Because I'd hate to have to explain it to Myles if we didn't check it out and it turned out to be right."

-!-

-&-

-!-

-&-

_Bullpen, FBI Building_

_Wednesday, 11 am_

"Myles," Lucy said as he walked back in, after checking with a couple of his snitches to no avail. "Sue's been waiting to talk to you. She's in Conference 1."

Myles looked suspicious. "What about?"

Lucy shrugged. "She didn't say. Just that it had to do with the Black Rose case. She and Tara have been holed up in there since we broke up the recap at 7:30, and Sue poked her head in here ten minutes ago and asked me to flag you down when you came in."

"Mm-hmm." He was still trying to determine if a practical joke was in the works, she could tell. "Okay. Let me get a coffee, and we'll see what's up."

-!-

-&-

-!-

-&-

"We need your opinion on something."

"_My _opinion? Not Jack's?" From anyone else, it would have been teasing. From Myles, it came out surprised.

Sue sighed and nodded. "I probably should wait until we have more than a theory, since you're the case agent. But we need that ultra-skeptical streak of yours right now, because I pray we're wrong. Not that this is even a theory – just a hunch." She paused. "And if we're right…well, you'll see."

"Okay." He sat down. "What have you got?"

She took a breath, and pushed her bangs out of her face. "An offhand comment Tara and I heard this morning got us thinking, and we _may_ have found another pattern in the Black Rose's victims."

Tara picked up the conversation. "All we've seen to this point is that he kills two victims in each city, early on a Sunday morning, all professional women. Doesn't narrow our search much, right?"

At Myles' nod, Sue motioned to the nearby white board, where the information they had in the Bullpen was duplicated exactly, but on paper strips instead of written:

**Cambridge, MA :**

1) Ellen Nichols

2) Nancy Davis

**Princeton Campus:**

1) Esther Johnson

2) Leslie Dentin

**Baltimore, MD:**

1) Elaine Foster

2) Amanda Dearborn

**Washington, DC:**

1) Eve Harcourt

2) Rachel DeLacy

"Do you see a pattern in the names?"

He looked at her, then at the board, his eyes narrowing. "Hmmm…I don't see it."

She stepped over to it. "Wait…what if I do this?" She rearranged the paper strips.

**Cambridge, MA :** 1) Ellen Nichols 2) Nancy Davis

**Princeton Campus:** 1) Esther Johnson 2) Leslie Dentin

**Baltimore, MD:** 1) Elaine Foster 2) Amanda Dearborn

**Washington, DC:** 1) Eve Harcourt 2) Rachel DeLacy

He sat forward in the chair. "The first victim in each city…they all have the same first initial. And the second victims all have the same _last_ initial." He shook his head. "That can't be a coincidence. So, E and D. Where are you going with this?"

Tara spoke up. "Myles, Liz made a comment to us this morning at the coffee shop. She was looking at the paper – specifically, the article on the serial killer. She said the map of the cities where the Black Rose has struck looked like a road map of her life."

He looked over at her, startled. "What?"

Sue held up a hand. "Wait, Myles. Let me finish. And crank up that skepticism." She picked up a folder. "Liz also told us she did an internship in Baltimore while she was getting her masters' degree – with the District Attorney's office."

Myles nodded. "Yes. She did a handful of psychiatric evaluations for them over that summer, on defendants who either were pleading insanity or in whom there was some question of their fitness to stand trial."

"Sue asked me to pull up the records on the people Liz evaluated," Tara said. "Of the nine she did, five of them were deemed unfit to stand trial, two of them are still in jail, and one died last year. The _ninth_ one, however, served eight years for second-degree murder and was paroled just two months ago."

He looked at Sue. "This is about the _longest_ shot you've ever taken," he said dryly. "Including Brian Guthrie."

She sighed. "I know, Myles. This is totally a hunch— I admit that. It just seemed prudent for us to at least check it out. I didn't want to leave it alone until I knew I'd never have to tell you 'oh, yeah, we'd thought about that, but it didn't seem credible at the time'."

"You've got to admit, Myles," Tara added softly, "considering what we've got here, and the fact that Rachel lived right across the street and _didn't_ exactly fit the profile of the other victims, it's possible."

The two ladies watched his eyes widen. The reaction was subtle, but they could tell the skepticism was starting to waver in the face of what this could imply. Myles shook his head, as if to clear it. Then he said, "Hold that thought," and ducked out of the room.

They heard him down the hall. "D? Got a minute?" The two men were back a moment later. "Sue, Tara, recap for D what you just told me."

Sue looked at him, surprised. "You sure? This isn't really anything remotely solid. It was just a hunch."

"I know," was the reply. "Do it anyway. We need an objective insight, because mine…just do it."

"Okay."

When she finished, Myles arched a brow at Dimitrius, who nodded gravely. "It's a possibility. One that's looking too real to ignore."

Myles nodded. "Go on, Sue."

"Well, I just got looking at it. Liz was born in Cambridge, did all her college at Princeton, the internship in Baltimore, and now the clinic in DC. It almost looks as if…"

Myles finished her thought, his voice lowering. "…as if he's carving her initials into each city. E.D.—Elizabeth Dillingham. I _knew_ there was something familiar here, but I couldn't place it. And the last victim _was_ right across the street from her house."

Dimitrius nodded. "It _could_ still be a coincidence, but…who is this guy that got paroled, anyway? Can't hurt to check him out."

Tara pulled up a file on her laptop. "His name is Evan Graham. He was a chronic wife-beater who got a little carried away one night. Came home with a dozen roses for his wife, something set him off, he beat her up pretty good, then slit her throat. They found the roses tossed on top of her body. He tried the insanity plea, but the fitness evaluation nixed that. It was the one time Liz actually had to _testify_ in court, instead of just doing the evaluation. He was convicted of second-degree murder and was sentenced to fifteen years. He served eight, and was paroled in April."

"Eight years…eight victims," Sue mused. Then she brightened a little. "But wait – he'd have to check in with his parole officer once a week, right? So how could he be all over the place?" She sighed in relief. "I guess I was wrong. Sorry for all this, Myles."

But Myles and D didn't look particularly relieved. They exchanged a glance, and D asked Tara to find the name of Graham's parole officer. Then he made a call from the phone there in the conference room. When he hung up, his face wasn't any happier.

"Graham is supposed to report in every Wednesday. He's been like clockwork."

Myles leaned against the table. "Doesn't mean he's stayed in Baltimore the rest of the week. _If _he's our killer, he picked early Sunday morning because it gives him the most time between meetings with his PO." He sighed heavily and looked at Sue. "Sometimes I wish you weren't so blasted intuitive, you know that? But if you're right…I'm glad you are."

"You think it's worth pursuing, then?"

"I think it's the only even remote lead we have right now. But keep praying that you're wrong – and you'll have backup on that now."

-!-

-&-

-!-

-&-

_Wednesday, 11:30 am_

Elizabeth finished packing up a lasagna, garlic bread, salad and brownies, then filled her arms and stepped out her front door. She was looking down to keep everything balanced, fortunately, or she might have tripped over the long box on her doorstep.

It was white, obviously from a florist shop. _What a sweet guy I'm dating_, she thought. She didn't take time to open it there, because her arms were full and she wanted to get lunch to the Bullpen on time. So she packed the food in her car, then went back and grabbed the box. She'd open it at the office, in front of Myles.

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the elevator, arms full again, and walked into the Bullpen. Tara, closest to the door, immediately jumped up to help. "Ooh— something smells _wonderful_." Heads popped up all around the room, and soon there was a crowd gathered at one end of the extra table, the case files having been piled up on the other.

Myles stepped over to give Elizabeth a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're too much, you know that?" She smiled, and he continued quietly. "Hey, I forgot to tell you. Sam called Monday morning. Apparently he got a fair dose of my nightmare, and it freaked him out a little. Only he didn't see exactly what I did."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He sighed. "I know I didn't tell you all the details Sunday night, but at the point where I woke up, you had just died. You were the woman on the bench. But Sam said he saw Tara instead— is that normal?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "It's possible that, because of the emotions involved, his subconscious chose an image that more readily fit the emotion in the dream. I mean, he might be upset if something happened to me, but Tara…"

"He'd react to Tara exactly the same way I'd react if I ever lost you," Myles responded softly. "That makes sense. Thank you for lunch, by the way."

"Just making sure you all don't forget what home cooking tastes like. And thank you in return. You always know just how to brighten my day." She hugged him tightly.

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

She smiled at him. "Oh, come on, you can admit it now. I brought them with me." She led him over to Tara's desk, where she'd laid the florist box. She looked up at him and was surprised to see that he wasn't grinning. "You didn't send this?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then who did? Maybe Connor, for helping with Rachel's funeral?" She lifted the lid off the box, pulled back the tissue and gasped.

The box was filled with black roses.


	9. Chapter 8: In the Bullseye

**Chapter 8: In the Bullseye**

Elizabeth looked up at Myles, her green eyes wide and not a little fearful. What she saw in return, as calm as he was trying to be, made her heart beat even faster. Then, just past his shoulder, she noticed the photo on the board. "That's Evan Graham."

Myles nodded, and Jack was beside her in an instant. "You know him, then."

"Yes." She nodded. "I did a psychological evaluation on him just before his trial." She shook her head and turned back to the box of flowers. Myles and Jack exchanged a glance over her head, realizing she hadn't made the connection yet.

Elizabeth pulled a white envelope out of the box and opened it. Myles stayed right behind her as she read out loud:

"_Oh! Snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,_

_On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;_

_But on thy turf shall roses rear_

_Their leaves, the earliest of the year;_

_And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:…_

_Eight years shall become an eternity— for you._

_And there's nothing your Fed boyfriend will be able to do about it._

They watched as she silently mouthed _eight years_; then it hit her as if she'd been punched. Myles caught her shoulders as she swayed slightly, her face drained of color. Elizabeth turned around and looked again at the photo on the board, her expression one of growing horror.

"_Evan Graham_ is the Black Rose?" she asked faintly. "And he's been doing all of this because of _me_?" She glanced at the photo again, visibly trembling now, then stumbled out of the Bullpen and blindly down the hall.

Myles watched her for a moment, then locked eyes with Sue. He sighed heavily, and she had never been more sorry to be right.

The Harvard grad walked over to his desk and picked up the main case file on the serial killings. He soberly walked over to Dimitrius, and after getting a nod from Jack, handed D the file. His voice was quiet, but filled with pleading. "Find him," he said, and walked out after Elizabeth.

Sue looked puzzled. "What just happened? He's the case agent— he can't just walk away, can he?"

D looked up from staring at the case file. "He has to, Sue," he said quietly. "Now that the case directly involves Elizabeth, he _can't _work on it. Which is going to be harder for him than if he could."

-!-

-&-

-!-

-&-

She was in one of the nearby conference rooms, curled up against one of the tall bookcases, her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth slightly, her eyes unfocused on the wall in front of her, tears streaming down her face. She looked so unlike herself that he could only stare at her in shock for a moment. Then the shock grew into a towering rage at Graham. _That he could do this to you…_

Myles didn't even hesitate, but sat down on the floor next to her and gently touched her arm. "Elizabeth…"

She flinched, hard, at his touch. "Rachel…all those other women…dead…because of me…." Her voice was distant, an echo of the woman he loved, drowning in a sea of guilt that shouldn't be hers.

But there was more to it than that; her reaction was far above what he had expected from the confident, level-headed psychologist. This was something long buried, almost a terror. Myles wondered what on earth could be behind it, and vowed he'd find out just as soon as he could get her to calm down.

He knew, somehow, that if he didn't break through to her in a few minutes, she wouldn't be any good to them, to anyone, for a long time, and he wasn't ready to give her up to something like this…would _never_ be ready for that. He came up onto his knees in front of her and took her firmly by the shoulders, ignoring the hard flinch this time.

"Elizabeth, look at me," he commanded softly.

Green eyes drifted closed, and he could feel her retreat further into herself. "My fault…oh, Rachel, I'm sorry…."

Myles shook her in a single, solid movement, and his voice gained intensity. "Elizabeth, I mean it. Look at me. Please."

She shook her head, and tried again to pull away from him, the rocking becoming more pronounced. _Oh please, sweetheart,_ he thought desperately, _don't make me do what I may have to…_

A firm hand on his shoulder made him look up. Tara was standing there, a determined expression on her face. "Myles, move."

"I—"

Her hand squeezed on his shoulder. "I know. You can't. But I can. Move. Now. Or we're going to lose her."

He nodded and stepped back, bracing himself for what was coming.

Tara took his place in front of Elizabeth and shook her again. "Liz. It's Tara. Look at me."

The vacant rocking continued, and a soft humming sound was starting to emerge from her throat. Tara looked up at Myles, who gave her a distraught nod; then she drew back one hand and slapped Elizabeth, hard, across the face.

Green eyes snapped open, and Elizabeth looked up at her friend in shock. Then her eyes cleared slowly, and she leaned her head back against the bookcase, taking several deep breaths before she spoke.

"Thank you."

Tara nodded, smiling, then stood. As she stepped past Myles, she laid a hand on his arm. "They're going to want to talk to her. Soon."

"I know," he replied softly. "Tell them to give us about ten, fifteen minutes, and we'll see how she's doing."

"Okay." Tara stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Myles held out a hand and pulled Elizabeth to her feet, then sat her down in one of the leather chairs. He pulled another one out and sat down facing her, taking both her hands in his. "Are you all right?"

"No." She still didn't look at him. "But I'm not catatonic anymore. I suppose that's something."

He drew her chin upward until she was facing him. "Look at me. Please."

After a long pause, she looked at him, and he drew back slightly at the terror in her eyes. "Elizabeth," he said firmly. "I know there's more going on here than I know about, but the first thing I have to say I want you to _listen_ to. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, holding his gaze like a lifeline. "Go ahead."

"How _dare_ you diminish the utter depravity of this killer by saying his deeds are your fault. _You_ didn't put the blade in his hand by helping to put him in jail all those years ago— he picked up that knife of his own volition and drove it into Rachel and all those other women by his own choice. Not yours."

He refused to let her look down again until he saw the words sink in. Her eyes drifted closed again, and a very soft laugh started in her chest as she shook her head.

"You have quite a talent for throwing my own words back at me, you know that?"

He smiled gently, squeezing her hands. "I learned from the best. Now, I suspect there's a lot more you need to tell me. You looked like you'd come face to face with hell itself, and I know you well enough to know it would take a lot more than a note and a box full of roses to evoke _that _reaction from you."

"You're right," she said softly, her head dropping onto their clasped hands. She stayed there for a minute, then took a deep breath and looked back up at him. "Evan Graham's case was the last of the nine evaluations I did that summer, for good reason. I was in intense therapy for two months afterward. It almost ruined my career."

"He must have been some piece of work," Myles commented, "to do that to _you_. What happened?"

She sighed again. "It was a nightmare. They never should have had a woman doing his evaluation in the first place. My sponsor apologized profusely for it afterward; he hadn't truly realized the depth of this man's problems, and he thought I could handle it."

Tara tapped on the doorsill just then. "Myles? They want to know."

Before he could say anything, Elizabeth stood up. She stepped into his arms and let him hold her tightly for a long moment, then pushed away from him and took his hand. "All right. I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Are you sure?" he asked. When she nodded, he paused. "Elizabeth…I can't go in there with you. I can't work on this case directly anymore."

She looked up at him, very serious. "Myles, you need to hear this, too. I'll explain when we get in there."

-!-

-&-

-!-

-&-

"Myles, you are no longer an active agent on this case." Ted Garrett's deep voice left no room for argument. "Out."

Elizabeth gripped his hand still and faced the supervisor. "Mr. Garrett, it's important that Myles understand how Evan Graham works as well. It has nothing to do with whether he's working on the case or not."

"Then perhaps you'll enlighten me as to what it _does_ have to do with."

She nodded and reached for the evidence bag on Tara's desk, containing the note that had been in the florist's box. "'Eight years shall become an eternity— for you'," she read, "'And there's not a thing your Fed boyfriend will be able to do about it.'"

She faced Ted Garrett squarely again. "Evan Graham's forte is playing head games. He controls by intimidation, manipulation, and will play on every emotion he can. He knows that Myles and I are dating, and he'll use that as well. Myles needs to understand him as well as the rest of you do."

"But how would he know you two are dating?" Tara asked. "It's not exactly in the society column."

"He was probably watching Rachel's house," Dimitrius commented.

"Or he's been watching Liz's house for awhile," Bobby added. "If he was around Saturday, while Liz and Rachel were talking, that might explain why Rachel didn't fit our profile. But she fit _his_; all he needed was the last initial to be right."

"And Graham would have found any way to 'twist the knife,' so to speak," Elizabeth said in agreement. Her voice was calm, but they all noticed she had a rather tight grip on Myles' hand. "If he was somewhere on the street that day, he was well-hidden, and there are only a few angles where he could see both Rachel's house and my swing in the yard."

Myles' voice was quiet, and he shot a quick look at Garrett before he spoke. "The conversation we had on your swing would have pretty well clued him in that we're dating."

Elizabeth nodded, a slightly bitter edge creeping into her voice. "Exactly. That would have just about made his day. Hearing me scream when I found Rachel probably gave him a load of jollies, but to find out I'm dating a Federal Agent..."

"And he'll make any use of that he can to try to drive them both nuts," Bobby pointed out. "Seems the sheila makes a pretty convincing argument, Ted."

Ted Garrett was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "All right," he said. "You've made your point. But this becomes informational _only_ from this point on, Leland. I don't want to hear any opinion from you at _all_, or I'll boot you out of here anyway. Do you read me?"

Myles nodded soberly. "Yes, sir."

Jack held up a file. "Dr. Dillingham, we have your original evaluation report here. But I'd like you to tell us, though, as much detail about this man as you can."

A pair of green eyes widened in what he could only call fear, but she nodded. "I'll give you as complete a profile as I can, but I'm only guessing on some of it. I don't know what went on in his head during his prison sentence, although I can extrapolate a fair bit from his actions so far."

"We have a profiler from another unit going over the files as well," Garrett said, "but your input would be valuable."

Myles pulled a chair over for her and sat her down. He then gently extracted his hand from hers, grabbed a second chair and sat down next to her, placing her hand up on his arm with a smile.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm here to offer all the support you need, but you were cutting off the circulation in my hand."

"Oh." She sighed. "I guess all this is a little more... disturbing... than I thought it would be, re-living everything I learned about this guy."

"You just talk," he said softly. "We'll deal with the rest later."

Elizabeth nodded and took a deep breath, turning back to the group.

"Evan Graham is a control freak, in the worst sense of the word, especially over other people. General profile for an abusive spouse, but in his case magnify it about tenfold. He thrives on watching people squirm under his microscope..."

"Bit like a scientist watching a rat in a maze..." Bobby mused.

"Only the right path is strewn with glass." It slipped out automatically, and Myles won himself a sharp look from Garrett as a result. "Sorry."

"But that's dead-on," Elizabeth said. "Not only glass, but nails, and turpentine, hot coals, ...one torture after another, subtle, not-so-subtle... anything that can inflict some form of agony on his victim. You could probably call him the perfect sociopath, because he does feel for his victims - sadistic pleasure."

"Wait a sec, then," Tara said, holding up a hand. "If he loves all this slow torture stuff, then what was the deal with the serial victims? He chloroformed them before he did anything... they weren't conscious for him to toy with."

"They didn't need to be," D answered, "because they were of no consequence. They weren't 'victims' to him, they were just tools to get him to this point."

"Yes," Elizabeth said, tears filling her eyes, "he knew that it would be torture for me, just to realize he had taken eight lives in my name, before he ever reached me personally. But…"

Now Myles' hand tightened on hers, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to — they all knew what Graham would likely do if he caught his intended prey.

"What else do we have?" Garrett asked, trying to turn the subject matter in a different direction.

"We know he's got a chemistry background," Tara said, "and he was in Baltimore Pen's horticulture program. Took great pride in his roses; actually did some hybridizing to create an even darker 'black rose' than is generally available. He used to bring his sister cuttings when she visited him."

"We spoke to the sister," Bobby added. "Graham had been staying at her place since he was paroled, but he up and moved out a month ago. She didn't have an address on him."

"He still used her address as his contact with his P.O., however," Jack said. "He's been like clockwork with his meetings, so no one really suspected anything was amiss. Until Sue and Tara uncovered our pattern."

"Well, then." Dimitrius stood up. "I think we'd best keep you somewhere safe until we catch this lunatic, Dr. Dillingham."

A pair of green eyes looked at him, still full of fear, but resolute just the same. "Agent Gans, I understand what you're trying to do, I really do," she said. "But I can't just walk away from my patients, and it will take some time to get my schedule adjusted to where I _can_ go underground, so to speak. I hate to sound like my grandfather on this one, but it's not stubbornness speaking — it's honest concern for my patients."

She felt a sharp squeeze on her arm, and turned toward Myles. "And you know better than to try to argue with me on this point. I'm not saying 'no.' I'm simply saying 'not yet.'"

"What if we had SOG watching both her house and her office?" Sue asked. "Just until she can get her schedule worked out?"

"A possibility," D answered, "but I think we'd all feel better if we could keep a bit closer watch than that on you, Liz."

"Wait. What if we had an agent take her secretary's place?" Jack suggested. "Can't get much closer than that."

"It'd have to be someone outside this unit. We're already an agent short here." D crossed his arms over his chest, thinking. "Maybe Gordon Harris' unit could loan us someone. Amy Hansen's pretty good."

"I'll ask them," Garrett said. "Now, who do we put at her house and everywhere in between?"

There was a moment's silence, then a tentative hand went up as blue-grey eyes met almost black ones. Myles didn't say anything until Ted Garrett nodded.

"_This_ has nothing directly to do with the investigation," he said. "Why can't I stay with her the rest of the time? Or better yet, why not my guest room as a safe house? My security system is top-of-the-line, there are fewer approach angles than at Elizabeth's house." He turned at the protest he could feel coming from the other side. "And I am _not_ leaving you alone at the mercy of this nut. If you think I can just stand back and watch…"

"I know you can't," was the soft reply. "It's not me you have to convince."

Myles turned back to Garrett. "Ted. The rest of the team needs to be free to track down Graham. Please— let me at least help this way."

"And if Graham shows up at your house, and you're the only thing standing between him and Elizabeth?" It came out in a growl. "Then what?"

Bobby jumped in. "It'll only be while Liz isn't at her office. We'll have all day to track down leads on Graham. I can stay there, too – then there's a non-conflicting line of defense."

"What about me?" Tara asked. "Last time I checked, I carried a gun, too."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Tara." She sighed heavily, reaching for Myles' hand again as she did. "Graham has some definite issues with women, especially strong ones. He loves to find one single crack in your armor and use it to pretty much demoralize you— that's how he was able to control his wife all that time. But he takes it so much further than your run-of-the-mill abuser. The emotional beating he put her through was so much greater than the physical one…killing her was a mercy."

There was silence for a minute as she tried again to get her tears and the shaking under control. Myles leaned over and whispered something in her ear; she shook her head and replied, "I can't…you tell them, please."

A nod from Garrett let him know it was all right. The baritone voice was quiet as he looked up at his colleagues. "A few minutes ago, in the conference room, Elizabeth told me that Graham was the last evaluation she did for a good reason— she spent two months in intensive therapy afterward, just to be able to finish her psychology degree. Tara, I know you're not liking hearing this, but I think she's right; maybe the guys should handle this."

"If I recall," was the arch reply, "your opinion isn't counted in this discussion."

"That's enough, Tara," Dimitrius said. He glanced in turn at Bobby, Jack and Garrett, then faced her again. "Myles' opinion may not have an active vote right now, but it happens to jibe with what the rest of us are thinking who _do_ have active votes. You're not getting anywhere near this guy, and neither is Sue."

-!-

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-!-

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The rest of the team was gathered around Bobby's desk, quietly brainstorming and setting up plans. Elizabeth watched the almost wistful gaze Myles gave them, and reached over to squeeze his hand. "Tough having to suddenly sit this one out?"

He glanced at her and nodded, a soft sigh escaping him. "A little. Tough to have to give up a case I was lead on. But, in a way, I'm glad it worked out this way. If it weren't for your friendship with Tara, we'd have never known you were Graham's real target until it was too late." His eyes dropped and he gripped her hand tightly. "And I don't know how I would have handled that."

She smiled gently. "Do you realize, if it weren't for my friendship with Tara, we wouldn't even be dating? You'd still be the lead agent on the case, and I'd be just another—" she stopped abruptly, the smile vanishing. "Okay, that didn't help. Sorry."

"Come here." He took her face in his hands and gave her a lingering, passionate kiss. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "I just needed to make sure you were still here."

From across the room, Bobby glanced over at Myles and Elizabeth talking quietly, heads together. He leaned over to Dimitrius. "I swear, he's a different person whenever he's around her."

The older agent laughed. "Like you're not when you're around Darcy. There's something to be said for a good woman in your life. Permanently." He laughed as the Aussie's blue eyes unconsciously widened in what could only be called terror. Dimitrius patted him on the arm. "It's okay. You'll figure it out someday, just like Myles has."

Ted Garrett pretended he hadn't heard the exchange; he'd chuckle about it later, in his office. "I suggest you all don't waste time getting the good doctor set up at your safe house. If her schedule is what she says it is, you have this afternoon and evening to be ready."

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	10. Chapter 9: Safe House

**Chapter 9: Safe House**

_Leland House_

_Wednesday, 9 June_

_10 p.m._

The afternoon had been a blur of activity; getting her things over to Myles' house and getting her settled in the guest room, SOG setting up in several locations around outside, Bobby and Jack giving her so much instruction that her head was still spinning. After five hours of it, Elizabeth had reached her limit, and at 8 o'clock retreated to the guest room with a cup of tea.

Now, two hours later, the tea was untouched and ice-cold, and all she seemed to have energy for was staring out the window from the overstuffed armchair that was her favorite in the whole house. Even the star-filled sky, clearly visible since she hadn't bothered to turn on a light, was insufficient to shake the dread that had settled over her.

_Evan Graham,_ she thought, her chest tightening for what seemed the millionth time today– it was beginning to physically hurt. _I can't believe I still can't escape him, after all this time… I was so sure I had…_

A tap on the door brought her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she sighed, expecting more official instructions. She needed time to process, and it apparently wasn't going to happen tonight.

"Hey," a soft voice said. Myles stepped into the room, flipping on the small reading lamp behind her. He sat down across from her, on the bed, and took her hand. "You ok?"

She sighed. "That depends. Is it still Grand Central Station down there?"

He laughed. "I'm sorry about that, but it is necessary. The FBI is known for their thoroughness, after all."

"I can respect that," she replied with a faint smile, "when I'm not at the heart of it."

"Hey, by the way, I have something for you." He pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"What's this for?"

"Open it."

She did as he asked, and found a beautiful silver pin. "Myles, this is gorgeous."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied. "Because I don't want you going anywhere unless you're wearing it." At her surprised expression, he explained. "There's a tracking device in it. On the outside chance that… it'll just be easier to know where you are all the time." He silently cursed himself for the poor choice of words as her eyes widened.

"All right," was all she said, but he could hear the strain in her voice.

He pulled her over to sit next to him and put his arms around her. "Hey, it's going to be all right. Things are a lot quieter downstairs right now, and I thought I'd come see if you were hungry."

Elizabeth sighed. "Not really, but I suspect that's not the answer you're looking for. If you have something already planned, I'll try. Okay?"

"That's all I can ask," he said with a smile, kissing her cheek. "Then we can talk later if you want, give you a chance to process all this."

Dark eyebrows went up. "You're psychic now?"

"No," he said softly. "I just know you too well, and I don't want you checking out on me again like earlier. I was afraid I was losing you."

"I'm still here," she whispered in reply. "A little shaky still, but I'm here. I guess this pretty much messes up Sunday night plans with your folks, huh?"

An ironic laugh escaped him. "Probably, but I'm not going to tell Dad anything until we know for sure. They could still catch this guy before Sunday. It's only Wednesday; there's time still. Besides," he said, stroking her cheek, "you're not getting out of a tango that easily."

Her laugh was genuine, even as shaky as it was. "I'm telling you, it would be safer if Graham had me in his clutches than for you to have me as a tango partner."

Her attempt at a joke didn't work. His eyes were grave as he answered. "Elizabeth, Graham isn't going to get anywhere near you. We're just not going to let it happen. They're going to have an agent in your office, SOG will be watching outside, someone will escort you to work and back hom— uh, to my place, and SOG is set up outside here as well…there's no way he's going to get near you."

"Myles." She was serious as well now. "Please don't make promises you have no control over. You can't guarantee that any more than the rest of the team can. Until he's caught, there's a possibility. Instead of making promises, help me figure out what to do if by some chance all those precautions fail."

**-!-**

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**-!-**

**-&-**

_Friday, June 11_

_5 p.m._

She'd tried… for two days she'd really tried; she understood why things had to be this way, and part of her was grateful. But she was independent, had been for many years, and the constant surveillance was making her crazy.

It didn't help that all the precautions also served as an inescapable reminder that Graham was out there, watching her as well, waiting for a perfect opportunity to grab her and crawl into her head again, along with whatever else he had planned. It wouldn't be pretty— she _knew_ that, and the constant fear had settled in a throbbing band around her head.

Sighing, she got up from the stool at the kitchen counter and walked toward the bathroom, praying Myles had something extra-strength for her headache.

"You okay, Liz?" Bobby's voice echoed from the study.

Biting back the urge to tell him to mind his own business (_It's not his fault_, she told herself.), she replied, "I'm fine, just going to get something for this headache."

She walked down the hall and opened a door...

_...walked in to find a man in his mid-twenties sitting at the table, his hands cuffed in front of him. She studied him for a moment, trying to get an initial "feel" for him— medium height, dark hair, square jaw...most women would be swooning over him. But there was an air about him of... menace._

_She sat down across from him. "Evan Graham? I'm Elizabeth Dillingham. I'll be conducting your psychological profile for your fitness interview."_

_He looked up at her, and she shivered involuntarily. His eyes were bright blue, but they were ice— there was a cold glint in them that belied the perfect smile. He searched her face for a minute, then his eyes drifted down over her as far as the table would allow. "How fortunate for me," he said, and there was nothing flirtatious in his voice— it was almost gleeful, although how she couldn't quite place._

_"So why don't you tell me—"_

_He interrupted her. "I'm surprised they let you in here. Didn't they tell you what I've done?"_

_Elizabeth looked at him evenly. "I am aware of the charges against you, Mr. Graham."_

_Graham leaned closer to her across the table, his voice lowering until it was almost a caress. "But they didn't tell you what I did to her, did they? They didn't tell you how she screamed when I broke the lamp across her back, the glass ripping into her flesh..." Blue eyes glittered at her as she stared, unable to break his gaze. "Didn't tell you how she begged me to kill her... but that would have been injustice. She deserved every ounce of pain I gave her, and infinitely more..."_

_That statement gave her something to grasp onto, and she pulled herself out of his gaze. "Why, Mr. Graham?" she said, trying to get her equilibrium back. "Why did she deserve it?"_

_His eyes glittered still, and his smile broadened. "Because she existed," he whispered. "How does that answer make you feel, Miss Dillingham? Or is it Mrs.? Is there some man in your life? Or are you one of those independent types who thinks they don't need a man? That was Sarah; she thought she could survive without me, without my control in her life. But she found out differently..."_

"Liz?" Bobby's voice reached her from a long tunnel. "You okay in there?"

Elizabeth gasped, coming out of the memory shaking like a leaf. "Uh, I'm fine, Bobby," she answered, hoping her voice wasn't shaking as well. "I'll be right out." She opened the medicine cabinet and found what she was looking for. She poured two tablets into her hand, then came out of the bathroom.

The Aussie watched her for a minute, concern darkening his features, especially when she found she couldn't meet his blue eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

She forced herself to look up at him. "I'm fine," she said, a little more forcefully than she'd intended. "I just need some water now."

Bobby backed off. He knew her patience was nearing its limit, even as he knew something _wasn't_ okay. "All right. I'll be in the study if you need me." He walked away.

Elizabeth came back out to the kitchen, got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then leaned against the counter, eyes closed. _I have to get away from this, from Graham, just for a few minutes. Or I'm going to lose my mind. But where... how?_

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_5:30 p.m._

Myles pulled up outside his house, nodding discreetly to the SOG van as he got out of the car and headed inside. It was quiet after a long day of trying to work on anything he could to keep from listening to the brainstorming continuing in the Bullpen. He'd finally found a project that was serving that purpose when Bobby left to pick up Elizabeth at her office, so he decided to finish it up before going home.

He expected to find Elizabeth reading in the living room or puttering around in the kitchen. When she was in neither of those places, he went up to the guest room and tapped on the door. "Elizabeth?"

There was no answer. He opened the door, thinking she might have fallen asleep. The room was empty. Myles headed back downstairs.

"Bobby?"

The Aussie's head poked out from the study. "Yeah, mate?"

"Where's Elizabeth? You finally talk her into playing your unique version of 'Scrabble'?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nope. I know she had a headache earlier. I thought she'd gone upstairs to lie down."

"She's not there." A tense note was starting to creep into Myles' voice.

"Okay," Bobby said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Before you get to DEFCON 3, let's check everywhere. Maybe she got a sudden urge to clean out your garage or something— my mom used to go on sprees like that when she was worked up about something."

The quip worked, and Myles relaxed slightly. "For your information," he replied dryly, "unlike yourself, I choose to put things away when I'm finished with them. My garage doesn't need cleaning unless I've just finished a project."

They started looking in the garage first, anyway. No one was out there, but then Myles noticed something. "There's something missing."

Bobby glanced at him. "How do you know that?"

"I told you, I have a place for everything. All my gardening tools are right there. And there's a pair of pruners and a bucket missing. You don't think she'd— ?" He didn't finish the sentence, just headed out the side door toward the yard.

He found her on her knees in front of one of his rosebushes, pruning back the dead blossoms. The cuts were all in the right places, but the savageness with which she was wielding the pruners made him hold back just slightly. Then he heard a soft sound, and immediately knelt down next to her. He slowly reached for the pruners, and she jumped as his hand slipped into her peripheral vision.

"Woah, sweetheart," he said gently. "It's just me." He took the pruners from her, and she crumpled in front of him, sobbing into her hands. Myles helped her to her feet. "We're going inside, and then we can talk, okay?"

She shook her head, and he grasped her shoulders. "Elizabeth, I know you're frustrated and scared, but going inside isn't up for debate. Come on."

He led her into the house and sat her down in the study. Bobby started to leave, but Myles motioned for him to stay. He glanced at Elizabeth for a moment, saw her face was still hidden in her hands, then turned to the Aussie and fingerspelled, slowly, P-L-A-Y A-L-O-N-G. He then signed _please_. Bobby looked confused for a minute, then figured out what Myles had said and nodded.

Myles took a breath, then swung on the Aussie. "You're supposed to be watching her, Manning! We're not talking about some quick-change Houdini here!"

Bobby held up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, mate. I didn't hear her go out to the garage."

"There's a signal that sounds in here whenever any of the outside doors are opened, unless you've outdone yourself in stupidity and left the alarm off."

Bobby bristled. "I don't need you telling me how to do my job."

"And I don't feel like allowing Graham to get his hands on her just because you fell asleep on that job!"

"Myles." Elizabeth's voice broke in.

He turned to her. "What?"

"Bobby didn't do anything wrong. I turned off the alarm before I slipped out." Her voice sounded so tired.

Myles knelt down next to her. "Why?" he asked in gentle exasperation. "Why would you do something like that? Don't you understand-- there's a nutcase out there who'd like nothing better than to torture you, and we're trying to keep him from doing that."

Now her tears fell again, but she met his gaze. "I'm sorry, Myles. I just... I just needed to get out, even for a few minutes. I was in SOG's sights the whole time, I promise. Pruning the roses seemed to be a pretty therapeutic idea, considering. I'm sorry I frightened both of you. And I'm sorry for not telling you where I was, Bobby," she added, turning to him. "You got chewed out for something that wasn't your fault."

The Aussie sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Aw, that's all right, sheila," he grinned. "I'm so used to Myles' griping I tune ninety percent of it out anyway."

She giggled. "I'll have to remember that."

Myles reasserted his presence good-naturedly. "You likely won't need to, since _you_ rarely give me cause to gripe anyway."

He pulled her to her feet and extricated her from Bobby's arm, possessively putting his own around her and smiling at the same time. "Why don't we find something to eat? I think we've all had a long day."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_11 p.m._

Myles closed the door to the guest room and walked downstairs. He paused at the bottom step and sighed heavily.

"She finally give out?" Bobby asked softly, from his perch on one of the kitchen stools. He pushed a second coffee mug across the counter toward a second stool. "Heard you coming downstairs. Thought maybe you could use this."

The blond agent moved to join him. "Thanks," he said as he sat down, folding his hands in front of him on the counter. "And yes, she finally gave out, after crying herself to sleep in my arms. She had a pretty nasty flashback today. That's why she couldn't look at you earlier-- the blue eyes reminded her too much of Graham." He looked over at his friend. "He did quite a number on her eight years ago. I still can't believe she survived it intact-- the flashbacks alone have her on the edge of catatonia."

"Liz is a strong lady, mate," Bobby replied. "Bit stronger than we'd all realized, even after your battle with Ebola. You're a lucky man to have her in your life."

"I know," Myles replied simply, "and if we get through this as well, I intend to make sure she stays in my life."

His comment prompted a raised eyebrow from the Aussie, and Myles returned the expression. "What? It surprises you that I'd say that?"

"A bit." Bobby took a long drink of his coffee. "I guess I just always had you pegged as a confirmed bachelor like myself. Too busy saving the world to want someone tying you down permanently."

Myles let his breath out in a laugh. "You know, I used to think of it as being tied down, too." He took a drink of coffee, collecting his thoughts. "But it doesn't— if the lady shares your passion for what you do, then it frees you. You know there will always be someone at home who will understand and be there, whether you've spent all day doing paperwork or preventing a terrorist attack."

He paused, debating whether to share more. Then he turned and looked directly at Bobby. "That was what really left me in awe after the Ebola thing— Elizabeth realizes fully what's involved in a… committed relationship with someone in our line of work. And she's still here. In fact, I don't think I ever told any of you this, but the first day I came back to work after the Ebola? What she said to me in the conference room?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nope, you didn't. None of us really expected you to, but after what you said to her in the hospital about 'let peace begin with me,' I was curious what her response would be."

Myles nodded, smiling. "I thought you might, considering the shocked look on your face when I said that to her. She said she'd found her answers, and I asked what they were. She just said, 'Let peace begin…with _us'."_

"Woah." Bobby's eyes widened a bit. "She really is something."

His friend laughed. "Like Darcy isn't. The journalist who came to DC to 'fight for truth, justice and the American Way'? Teamed up with the 'Avenging Angel' of the FBI?"

"I know," Bobby grinned in reply, "but Darcy…I don't know, she's— she doesn't seem as strong as Elizabeth does. She always wants me to call if I'm not going to show up, or tells me she worries if I don't."

"You think Elizabeth doesn't worry? She does. But she also knows that I love her, no matter what. Elizabeth has been a little more closely involved with the kinds of messes we deal with, Bobby. Darcy hasn't. That makes a difference." He sighed. "The problem right now is, what do I do with her? She's terrified, but she's also frustrated with the 'house arrest' feeling. I wish we could still go to the dinner at the embassy Dad invited us to Sunday, but I just don't see it happening."

Bobby thought for a second. "Why not set something up here instead for Sunday night? Tara and I could take Liz someplace Sunday afternoon, just for a couple hours to get her out of the house. Then you'd have time to get set up, and she'd still be protected."

Myles looked at him, the blue-grey eyes brightening for the first time in what seemed like a month. "_That_ is the best idea I've heard in ages. And I know just what to do."

**-!-**

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**-!-**

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_Washington, D.C._

_Friday, 11 p.m._

He'd watched her house since Sunday. The sound of her scream and the growing fear evident in each action since had sent a thrill of power through his veins. Even her "special agent" hadn't been able to truly comfort her. Slowly, she was becoming his.

Wednesday, the anticipation of her finding the flowers had been almost dizzying. But her arms had been full; she hadn't opened the box there on her doorstep. Instead, she had taken it with her. He had climbed down from his perch where he'd been disguised as a tree-trimmer and followed her, until he'd seen her turn onto 9th Street from K.

_She's headed for the Hoover Building_, he thought to himself, silently cursing his luck. _She thinks they're from Leland._ He'd headed back to Georgetown in a hurry.

The flurry of activity around her house Wednesday night had convinced him they were onto him. They knew _who_, but they didn't know _where_ or _when_. All he'd had to do was figure out what they were planning, and work around it.

He couldn't believe his luck when he discovered they weren't putting her in a hotel. They were going to use Agent Leland's home for their safe house. _Perfect,_ he'd thought, since he'd already secured a layout of Leland's neighborhood, in hopes of playing a few mind games with the agent in addition to his lovely shrink.

He had watched discreetly as surveillance teams set up around the house, praying they'd miss the one spot he'd selected as most desirable. The angle was covered, but from much closer than he'd planned on being. He'd be outside the perimeter, and they'd never notice him.

Now he pored over the layout, finding sight lines and windows-- he'd already been over to his hiding place last night, to see if he could tell which rooms each window covered. He could see the guest room, where she was staying, the living room area and what appeared to be a formal dining room, although he doubted the unattached agent used it much. French doors and lightweight window coverings allowed an airy feeling, he was sure, but he loved the fact that it also gave him an ideal view.

Evan Graham leaned back in his chair, stretching and looking around the room. Everything was set. In just a short time, Elizabeth Dillingham would be here, helpless and at his mercy. It didn't matter what precautions the FBI had taken, nor how closely Agent Leland hovered; he had already chosen his time and place to spring, where she was most vulnerable, and where the irony of her capture would be supremely evident.

The thrill rushed through his veins again, and he began to laugh, the sound resonating off the concrete walls. She would be here, so soon... _Oh, so very soon..._

**-!-**

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	11. Chapter 10: Save the Last Dance

**Chapter 10: Save the Last Dance**

_National Museum of Natural History_

_Sunday, 13 June_

_3:30 p.m._

"Sorry Myles couldn't come with us," Tara said as they wandered through the geology exhibit.

Elizabeth laughed. "Is that apology directed at me, or at Bobby?" She glanced back at the Aussie, who'd been about five steps behind them all the way through the museum.

"Avoid girl talk whenever I can," Bobby replied good-naturedly. "Besides, I can get lost in here. Always something I missed the last time."

"Oooh," Tara crooned as they approached the central display of the exhibit. "Now _there's _a solitaire for you."

Elizabeth laughed merrily. "Gee, you think we could find a ring setting for it?"

On the stand in front of them, highlighted against black velvet and set in a spotlight, was the Hope Diamond, an exquisite 45-carat blue stone. Roughly an inch in diameter, it shone from the center of an elegant diamond necklace.

Bobby draped an arm around each of them. "Y'know," he whispered with a grin, "I think we probably could get through their security here, but I think the setting alone would break even Myles' bank account."

Tara elbowed him, smiling. "Thought you were avoiding the girl talk."

"I got lonesome."

They all laughed at that, and Elizabeth looked over at them. "Guys, thanks for this. I needed it. It's too bad Myles had to work. What's Mr. Garrett got him doing, anyway, if I may ask?"

Bobby shrugged. "We had a case we were working on before this one started. Company in Arlington doing some illegals in the EPA realm. A lot of paperwork to go through. Happens too often."

Tara rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Way too often. Did you know that, as a whole organization, the Bureau has more than _four hundred_ open cases at any given time that are environmentally-related? And about half of those are Clean Water Act violations."

Elizabeth raised her brows. "Wow. I never thought of that. I figured the Environmental Protection Agency had their own enforcement…uh, team, I guess."

"Nope," Bobby replied. "We get it all, or the priority stuff anyway. So Myles is up to his eyes in reports right now. Poor guy. This is looking to be worse than the AltaTech mess."

They wandered around for another hour or so, enjoying the atmosphere no place in the world could create quite like the Smithsonian Institute.

They were headed for Bobby's car when the Aussie's cell phone rang.

"Manning," he said. "Oh, hey Myles. Hmm? Yeah, we're just headed back to your place now. I'll ask her." He turned to Elizabeth. "Did you pack whatever you had planned to wear to the embassy dinner when we brought you over to Myles' house?"

She shook her head. "No. It didn't seem practical. Either everything would be over and I'd be back at my place anyway, or we wouldn't be going. It's still at my house."

Bobby put the phone to his ear again. "It's still at her place, mate. Sure, we'll swing by on our way back. See you in a few." He hung up and turned to the ladies again. "Small detour."

Elizabeth was eyeing him suspiciously. "What are you two up to?"

He raised a brow at her. "What makes you think we're 'up' to anything? It was a simple request."

"Right," she replied. "A simple request. 'Oh, by the way, could you stop on your way back to the safehouse and pick up a party dress from a house that is undoubtedly being watched by a demented serial killer?' _You_, and my sweet but devious steady, are plotting something."

Tara smiled and put her arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "You just worry about knocking those ten-dollar socks off of him tonight. The rest will take care of itself."

**-!-**

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**-!-**

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_Dillingham Home, Georgetown_

_5pm_

"Stay here." Bobby stepped into the house slowly, checking the entryway and the surrounding area. "Liz, where's your bedroom?"

"At the end of the hall upstairs."

"All right." He leveled a finger at both ladies. "I mean it— you sheilas stay right here with that door open so SOG can see you. If you hear anything unusual, you go get them." The Aussie eyed Tara for a minute. "Tara, if I see you behind me at any point, D will hang you out to dry as soon as I can talk to him. You read me?"

Tara nodded. "Can I at least draw my gun, in case you missed a spot down here?"

He chuckled. "I suppose, although I never miss."

"Only when there's a bank door involved." She drew her gun, but kept it loose in her hand and pointed at the ground. "Just hurry up, okay? Anyone could have been here and gone by now."

"Righto. Back in a flash." He worked his way in through the entry and up the stairs.

"You think Graham would bother coming in here?" Elizabeth whispered. "There's been no one home since Wednesday."

"From the way you described him to us, I wouldn't put _anything _past him." Tara looked up as footsteps faded in from upstairs.

"Liz?" Bobby called out to her.

"Yes?" She walked into the living area, to the base of the stairs. At his expression, she stopped. "What is it?"

"Uh…what do you need for tonight?"

She looked up the empty staircase for a moment. "I can get it, Bobby."

He took a breath. "You don't need to. I want you there with Tara. What do you need?"

The whole situation was starting to get on her nerves. _I feel like such a prisoner_, she thought. This just twisted the vise too far— she'd had enough.

Bobby caught her halfway. "Liz, you're not going up there." He glanced at Tara, trying to get her help.

"Is Graham up there?" Her voice reflected her frustration.

"No, but—"

"Then get out of my way, Agent Manning. This is still my house, and I'm tired of Evan Graham making every place I go a prison camp." She pushed him aside and was out of his reach before he could turn around.

The Aussie motioned furiously to Tara. "Get up here, quick!"

Tara had taken but a single step when a cry echoed from the far end of the hallway. The two agents rushed back up the stairs.

Elizabeth was just coming out of the room as they reached it. Unsteady on her feet, she leaned against the wall. Her eyes were blazing. "That's _it_," she said, her voice low. "That is the last straw, I have _HAD_ it." She sank to the floor.

Tara took the opportunity of Bobby's attention on the psychologist to see what had caused the sudden outburst. She stepped into the room…and had to bury a scream of her own.

Directly above Elizabeth's bed, a horrifying sight met her eyes. The beautiful gray tabby cat that Elizabeth was so fond of was nailed, spread-eagled, on the wall. The feline had been gutted, and a grisly message was smeared in blood: _Here, pussy, pussy…_ A grotesque smiley face dripped below the words.

"Of all the…" Tara jumped as a hand grabbed her arm and hauled her back from the doorway.

Bobby's eyes were grave. "Go call ERT and get them over here," he said. "And go tell whoever's in charge of SOG out there to get their backside in here. I want some answers." Tara nodded and headed back downstairs.

Bobby knelt next to Elizabeth, who had her head rested on her drawn-up knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. "Are you okay?" he asked, settling a hand on her shoulder.

She sat up, leaning her head back against the wall, her eyes closed. He waited as she took a very deep breath, then let it out slowly.

"Liz?" he asked again.

"I'm fine," The strength he heard in her voice was surprising. She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "I needed that."

Now he was _really _surprised. "You want to run that by me again?"

She smiled faintly. "I didn't mean it that way. No, I didn't _need _my cat killed or that insulting little note. But now I'm _angry_ at him, Bobby. He intended to scare me, to worm his way further into my head. It didn't work. All it did was tick me off. That's strength right now."

Elizabeth looked at the Aussie very seriously, and laid a hand on his arm. "Bobby, there is no reason at _all_ to tell Myles about this right now, all right?"

"But—"

She shook her head. "No. Look, I don't know what you all have cooked up for tonight, but I suspect that this would pretty much destroy it. He'll go through the roof. I'm fine. I'll tell him later, okay? Please."

Bobby nodded. "Probably a good idea anyway. You're right. He'd be out for blood, and that's dangerous. I've seen him like that only once before, and it's pretty scary." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Now, tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you. You don't need to go back in there."

Tara came back upstairs just then, with another agent behind her. "Greg's in charge of the SOG setup here, Bobby."

Elizabeth straightened. "I can get what I need, Bobby; it's all right. Everything's accessible from where I don't have to look at that mess. If Tara can handle it, we can be done and back downstairs inside of two minutes." She caught a nod from her friend. "You obviously have some questions you need to ask. You cleared it up here; we'll be fine."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the car. Tara turned to Bobby, who was driving. "So how did Graham get into the house if SOG was watching the whole time?"

"Looks like he crawled through the bushes on the park side, then slid under the fence. We found the lock on your basement entrance under the deck had been bolt-cut. That's why they didn't see him— he never stood up into their sight lines."

Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. "That's what I get for an open view of Grandin Park," she muttered. "He probably stayed down inside the house, too. I just wonder where he met up with Roger. My cat usually shied away from most people."

Tara heard the almost-break in her voice. "Maybe Roger got cornered in the bathroom or something. If Graham was that eager to make a statement…"

Bobby shook his head, deciding he'd best put a cap on the speculation. "The cat, in addition to everything else, had a crossbow tip lodged at the base of his skull. Graham wouldn't have had to get close. The comforting part, if any of this _has_ one, is that he probably died very quickly."

The psychologist sighed. "Well, that's something, at least."

They pulled up outside Myles' house. Bobby turned around to face Elizabeth. "You take your stuff and go inside. We need to go give Dimitrius a report, then I'll be back. Shouldn't be more than an hour. Okay?"

"All right." She grabbed the garment bag and small case, and slid out of the car. She turned and signed _thank you_ to both of them. Tara nodded, and then shooed her toward the house.

All was quiet when she walked in. _Either Myles isn't home yet, or he's upstairs,_ she thought to herself. Then something on the kitchen counter caught her eye, and she walked over toward it.

A single white taper glowed in a crystal holder. Beneath it was a rose, laid across a small white envelope with her name written on it.

At this point, any rose would have given her the creeps— except this one. This one was special. Pale yellow petals, shading to a delicate pink on the edges, spoke to her heart like nothing else he could have given her— a Peace Rose.

She smiled softly, letting everything else melt away in the warmth that spread through her. She picked up the envelope and opened it. There, in his bold, elegant handwriting…

_Your presence is graciously requested in the dining room at 7 p.m. Formal dress is preferred._

Elizabeth looked at her watch. _Yikes_, she thought, _I have less than two hours to get ready_. She hurried up the stairs to the guest room.

As soon as her door closed, the one across the hall opened. Myles stepped out, swung his jacket around to the back of his shoulder, and headed downstairs. The tie was around his open collar; he'd worry about that at the last minute. There were still plans to complete.

He stopped short when he reached the kitchen. The rose she had taken with her, but the note was open, and he noticed she had added something to it. He smiled as he read the response next to a faint lipstick kiss: _I shall attend thee, my love_.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_Leland Home, Washington, DC_

_Sunday, 7 p.m._

Elizabeth looked at herself once more in the mirror and smoothed a few strands of hair back from her face. The anticipation of whatever Myles had dreamed up for tonight had her heart pounding, and she wanted everything to be perfect. She did one more once-over, then nodded to herself in the mirror and walked downstairs.

A low whistle met her as she stepped off the staircase. Bobby Manning was just closing the refrigerator, after grabbing a soda. "Wow," he said. "You look incredible."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I hope that opinion is shared."

"If it's not, you let me know and I'll come knock some sense into him." The Aussie stepped closer to her and touched her arm briefly. "He could tell _something_ happened earlier, but I didn't tell him anything."

"Thanks," she replied softly. "He'll be angry enough later. It'll wait."

Bobby tapped her under the chin. "You, pretty lady, just go enjoy yourself. He's been planning this since Friday night."

The psychologist laughed. "See? I _knew_ you two were up to something. You made up that EPA case, didn't you?"

"Nope – he just wasn't working on it today. It's waiting for him tomorrow, and the rest of us when this is all done. I'm going to go out with SOG for a bit, but I'll be back later." He gave her a gentle push toward the closed pocket doors of the dining room. "Have fun." And he was out the door.

Elizabeth took a breath, smoothed down her dress once more, adjusted the thin scarf around her shoulders, and stepped over to the doors.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

He heard the door slide open, and turned to face her. When he saw her, he was glad he'd not picked up the wineglasses, because they'd have been in pieces at his feet about now.

To describe her in a single word, he'd always boiled it down to "elegant." Tonight was no exception, and it took his breath away.

Tall, shoulders back, the heels of her shoes bringing her almost eye-to-eye with him, her every movement radiated refinement. Her black hair was swept up in a simple twist, and the opals he'd given her for her birthday sparkled at her ears and throat.

Her dress was deep emerald silk, beautifully cut to skim snugly down to her waist, then flare into draped folds that flowed and caressed her long legs. A single row of tiny gold beads accentuated the spaghetti straps and the bodice line, drawing his eyes up over every curve and back to her slim shoulders. Sultry and sophisticated at the same time, she was exquisite, and he found that English just wasn't enough for a reply.

"Ma chérie, vous êtes la femme la plus belle au monde. Exquis!"(1) Myles took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Elizabeth smiled, and stepped toward him to kiss his cheek. "Bien merci, mon amour. Vous semblez merveilleux, aussi."(2) She looked around the room. "But I'm not sure French is the appropriate language for the setting you've created."

"I don't know how to say it in Spanish or Portuguese, though." He laughed softly and led her over to the table. "Since we couldn't make it to the embassy dinner, I thought we'd bring the embassy here."

"You have done that, beautifully," she replied as she looked around the room.

The table was set in china and crystal, there were beautiful white candles glowing from every corner, and he had even brought a native touch to the setting. Two beautiful arrangements of Pampas grass were brightened and made even more exotic by scarlet tiger lilies peeking out from the feathery grasses. Small Argentine flags completed the arrangements, and the music was soft Spanish guitar. There were also wonderful aromas coming from covered dishes on the table.

Elizabeth gave Myles a direct look, smiling brightly. "You weren't working today, were you?"

He laughed softly. "Maybe not on a case, but hey..." He took her in his arms and kissed her gently. "I hope I did well."

"You did perfectly," she replied.

"Good. Because I want us to forget about everything tonight and just enjoy ourselves." He pulled out a chair for her. "Now, I have a friend at a Peruvian restaurant downtown who switched countries just for us tonight, and she'd never forgive me if we let it get cold."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

The conversation was light, the food marvelous, and Elizabeth found herself totally at ease for the first time in almost two weeks. "If your friend is as incredible with her own country's fare as she was with this, I expect you to introduce me sometime soon."

Myles reached across the table for her hand. "Consider the reservations made. Just as soon as they stick Evan Graham back in his cage for good, you and I are going out on the town."

A shadow flickered across her green eyes, but her smile was brilliant. "I can't wait."

It seemed that he started to ask a question, but then stopped and rose from his chair in a graceful motion. "Well, _this_ evening has just started, sweetheart. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." He walked over to the CD player and replaced the Spanish guitar with a different disc. He then turned to her. "Come dance with me," he said softly, holding out a hand to her.

Elizabeth stood and walked over to him, her face pale. "Myles, I'm really serious when I say I'm a hazard on the tango floor. Richard tried and tried to teach me the _milonga_, and I just couldn't get my feet to stay away from his."

Myles laughed softly, then pulled her into his arms. He stroked her cheek gently, then said, "Elizabeth, do you trust me?"

She nodded. "You have to ask that? Of course I trust you. It's just—"

He cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Then close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax." After she did, he spoke again. "Now, look at me."

Emerald eyes locked with his.

He smiled, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Now just hush and follow my lead."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Bobby walked back into the house quietly, not wanting to disturb Myles and Elizabeth. He started for the study to grab a couple hours' sleep on the sofa, but stopped when he noticed the dining room doors had been left open about halfway. An exotic blend of instruments reached his ears, and his curiosity got the best of him. He stepped over to the doors.

He'd been dancing with Darcy a few times, even taken her to a "tango club" because it was something she'd always wanted to see danced. There had been a small booklet on the table there, explaining some of the history of the dance form and its variations. The _milonga_ was about as far removed from the stereotypical "cheek-to-cheek stroll," most often associated with the tango, as possible. Watching Elizabeth with Myles now, a paragraph from that booklet came into his memory with great force:

"_The tango has the power to pull two strangers together into one, to dance out their desires...to be great lovers and heroes, if only for a moment. It's the whisper of sensuality brought on by the hint of perfume. The tango is also the glamour of the ballroom and the allure of the underworld. It's the opulence of Paris and the smoky darkness of a Buenos Aires cafe. It's the world of subtle metaphors that captures the melancholy heart."(__3)_

_And that's two strangers_, the Aussie thought, mesmerized. _Even more so between "lovers."_ A touch to the cheek, a hand slid provocatively down the other's arm or around the waist; the tango in any of its forms had a sensual edge to it, but the _milonga_ had more eye contact than other forms, and so deepened the experience. Bobby could picture Darcy's eyes flashing brightly at his touch, and wondered how that might intensify in a moment such as the one he was witnessing.

Myles and Elizabeth moved as if they were extensions of each other, every nuance of movement reflected in the unbroken gaze they shared. He led her through increasingly intricate footwork, and it seemed at times as if she couldn't avoid stepping on his feet, a dangerous prospect in her stiletto heels. But whatever subtle signals he was sending her, she read them perfectly, and they made a striking couple.

Bobby stepped back, then very quietly pulled the doors closed, leaving them to their dance. He headed for the study and some sleep, shaking his head at the most unexpected side of his colleague he had just witnessed.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

The guitar faded away; they stood there for a long moment, gazing at each other, locked in the subtle sensuality that had woven its way around them. Gently, almost too slowly to bear, he leaned forward and kissed her.

For a moment, time stopped; then it raced into being again as every tender word not yet spoken was breathed into life by the passion that flowed between them.

His hands moved up into her hair, and pulled free the clip holding the elegant style in place. Raven tresses spilled over her shoulders, and his fingers tangled in them as he rained kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids. She drew in a sharp breath as his lips found her throat, and she whispered his name. He felt her shiver as his hands moved down over her shoulders, her back.

For a second, he felt her pause slightly; they'd reached this point only a few times in their relationship, and she always pulled back. He had never questioned it, but after last weekend he understood. He was ready to back off—

Then suddenly her hands drifted up his chest, moving around his neck and up into his hair. Her kisses grew bolder, exploring his face even as her hands moved over his shoulders, and he felt her lips caress his ear. The sensation almost overwhelmed him, but it also shocked him enough that he drew back, looking deeply into her green eyes. There was a hunger there, but there was more— fear, desperation.

His voice was very soft, and he made sure his tone was light. "Hey, did the rules change and someone forgot to tell me?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide, then dropped her gaze, her cheeks coloring. "I—"

Myles lifted her face back up. "Elizabeth, look at me. We've had other moments like this, and you've always stopped us before we went too far. I understand that - you want to wait, and that's fine. But what's different now? Is it Graham?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh, Myles, I'm sorry. I just...I don't want to...not without…"

He drew her back into his arms and just held her tightly for a moment. "Sweetheart, you are not going to die. I'm not going to let it happen, active case or not." He looked into her eyes again, a faintly stern expression on his face. "And I will _not _let Evan Graham haunt something I want to share with you, alone."

"You're right," she said softly, her fingers in his hair again, but gentler. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry I allowed him into our evening at all. It just got to me today, I guess…"

"What did?"

She gasped a bit; she'd forgotten he didn't know yet. "Not now. I'll tell you in a while, but not right now. Not in the middle of our evening."

Myles gave her a roguish smile. "Love, if we don't bring our evening back to casual in a hurry, we're going to be in trouble. Tell you what…why don't we both go change, so there's no part of this evening associated, and then we can have dessert and you can tell me what happened. I know it had Bobby pretty wound up, but he wouldn't say anything."

"All right," Elizabeth replied. "I'm sorry things ended rather abruptly."

Another laugh. "I'm _not_, at this point. I think I'm going to need a cold shower before I change, anyway."

She blushed. "You and me both," she said. Then she looked up at him, flushing further. "I mean…I mean, I don't mean…"

Myles laughed and kissed her briefly on the lips. "I think maybe you should quit while you're ahead. Come on, let's both get changed, and I'll meet you back down here in a few minutes."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

He watched as they walked upstairs together. After the scene that had played out in front of his eyes just a few minutes ago, he certainly didn't expect them to come back. _Enjoy it while you can,_ he thought at them. _There won't be a tomorrow night._

He climbed down from his hiding place silently, the camera bag swinging against his hip as he landed. _You certainly put on quite a show, my pets. And tomorrow you will discover who was watching. _

As he climbed into his car, a thought struck, and it was too delightfully tempting to pass up. He pulled out his cell phone, then checked his folder for a phone number. A single ring before the answer surprised him. _I suppose work always comes first. Poor slob._

"Leland."

Graham's voice was as sinuous as a snake's movement. "So beautiful…so very little time left." He heard a drawn-in breath, and hung up before Agent Leland could get even a word out.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Something was wrong; she knew it from the tense line of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. He stalked down the stairs. "BOBBY!" He bellowed toward the study. "Get out here!"

"Myles, what's the matter? I heard the phone ring…" She trailed off as he turned his gaze on her.

"Come here." He indicated one of the kitchen stools. Then, as an afterthought, he ground out, "Please."

She walked over quietly and sat down, wondering what on earth had happened in the space of ten minutes to send him this far into anger so quickly. She watched him cross to the study in three strides and pound on the door.

"MANNING!"

"All right, all right…" Bobby opened the door, obviously having just awakened from a rather sound sleep. He took one look at the blond agent and woke up fast. "Myles, what—"

"Get over here. I want some answers, and I want them now."

Bobby exchanged a glance with Elizabeth as he walked over to the kitchen stools as well. She gave a slight shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders. He raised a brow at her, then turned and leaned against the counter. "Answers for what, mate?"

Myles had been faced away from them, but now he swung around. His eyes blazed. "First of all, what the hell is SOG doing out there, knitting! I just got a call from Graham."

"What?" Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. "He called? He called _you_? How did…?"

"I don't know," Myles snapped in reply. "And it wasn't long enough for a trace."

"What did he say, Myles?" Bobby was all business now, mostly because he didn't want to elevate his friend's anger any further.

"He just whispered, 'so beautiful… so very little time left.' Then he hung up. Is there any chance he's watching _this_ place, too?"

Elizabeth could hear a trace of fear creeping into his anger. And it bothered her that her own anger from earlier was wavering into that realm as well. _We need the anger right now,_ she thought. _As much as I hate to see him like this, we need it._

Bobby was answering him. "If he is, he's outside the perimeter we set up. He'd need some pretty sophisticated equipment to get that kind of a range for surveillance. But you know as well as I do that there's surely a _chance_. I'll go out with SOG and check the area right now."

Myles held up a hand. "You're not going anywhere until the two of you tell me what happened earlier today."

Elizabeth got up and placed a hand on his arm. Her voice was gentle. "I'll tell you. Let Bobby go check, please."

Myles started to protest, but there was something in her voice that told him he should hear this without an audience; and she'd rather _tell_ it that way.

"Go," he said to the Aussie. Bobby nodded and headed out the door.

Elizabeth led Myles over to the sofa and sat down, pulling him next to her. She could feel the anger radiating from him, and wished fervently she weren't about to add to it. But she had to.

Very quietly, she related the events of that afternoon at her house. She was a bit frightened at the loathing in her own voice, the utter disgust at Graham, but she knew it was her only defense against his mind-games right now.

When she finished, she looked up, expecting to see fire again. What she saw inits place… was molten lead. Gone was the explosion; now he was on a slow boil, and the temperature was rising rapidly.

His voice reflected her feelings. "That he would do something so… degrading… so utterly insulting…"

"Backfired." The single word, sharply spoken, brought his head up fast, and she reached out to grasp his hand. "Yes, it was horrifying what he did to Roger, and entirely insulting, that horrid note. But it backfired, Myles. He wanted to frighten me, to get a little more control, get into my head… into _our_ heads, just as he did with that phone call. But all it did was get me angry— at him, at this whole mess, at the idea that someone thinks they can manipulate me. And _that_ gives me a weapon against him. It _frees_ me from that control. Am I making sense?"

Myles stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "You are." He stroked her hair, her cheek, drinking in her delicate features. "But it doesn't change the fact that his 'torment' is taking a very disturbing turn."

"You mean the innuendo. The erotic nature of it. I suspect it's merely an angle; one that sickos like him use because the act it implies is sheer terror to women. Fear is control."

He heard the tremor in her voice, and knew she only half-believed what she was saying. "Whether it's an angle or not, it scares _me_. We need to get you totally into protection, Elizabeth. This running around between work and here _is not safe_."

She moved into his arms, needing the secure feeling his embrace offered. "I know. And that's why I crammed as much as I could into tomorrow— after that, everything else can be handled by my colleagues. At 5 o'clock tomorrow afternoon, I will go anywhere you all ask me to… as long as you're going to be there, too."

"Me? I have—"

"If he cannot find me, he will try to get to you, Myles. I know that, beyond all doubt. And I will not let that happen."

Myles kissed her gently. "All right. As much as I _hate_ being on the receiving end of protective custody, I will be there. If they'll let me."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

1 Translation: "Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. Exquisite!"

2 Translation: "Why, thank you, my love. You look marvelous, too."

3 From **'This Is The Tango,'** originally broadcast as a series of three radio programs during the last three weekends of April, 1997, and is now available in RealAudio format. These audio and support text files and logos are Copyright ©1998-2002, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC), all rights reserved.


	12. Chapter 11: One More Day

**Chapter 11: One More Day**

_Leland Home, Washington DC_

_Monday, 14 June_

_6:30 am_

He couldn't shake the feeling; as hard as he'd tried, there was a foreboding growing in his gut that wouldn't go away. _One more day,_ he thought as he stirred cream into his coffee. _Eleven and a half hours, and he won't be able to touch her._ There had already been many, many fervent prayers from his lips that it would be enough.

He heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs, and turned to watch her. She caught his smile and her cheeks colored. "Good morning," she said softly. "I would ask what you were thinking, but from the look on your face, I think I'll just leave it to my imagination."

Myles drew her into his arms and kissed her intensely, trying desperately to ignore the mantra in his soul that kept whispering the need to cherish every second right now.

When he finally let her go, Elizabeth looked at him with concern. "What was that for? You were kissing me as if it were the last time or something." The look that flared in his eyes made her regret saying it. She pulled him over to one of the kitchen stools and sat him down, stepping close to him and putting her arms around his neck. "Myles, it will be all right. My last appointment is at 3, I have a little bit of paperwork to do, and then we can go. Just hide away until Graham gets careless and they catch him."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry; I just can't shake this feeling…" He held her tightly, feeling her heart beating against his own. "I don't want to lose you."

Elizabeth pulled back from him just slightly, stroking his cheek. 'Hey, what happened to all that anger from last night? All that 'active case or not, I'm not going to let it happen'?"

"I don't know," he said softly, "All I know is, after that phone call last night…"

She nodded. "You know, I got thinking about that. Particularly, the _timing._"

His eyes snapped open. "What do you mean?" Then he thought for a moment. "He called just after we walked upstairs…"

As his eyes widened, she nodded again. "We were just going to get changed, but if he was watching us all evening… He thinks he _interrupted_ something, Myles. He thinks he has another angle to use against us, but he doesn't."

"I know, but—"

"Love, we will be fine. Even if Graham does grab me, the team can track where I am. He's not planning to kill me quickly; there will be time."

"It's what he can do to you in that space of time that worries me."

Now a shadow of fear crept into her eyes. "Myles…"

"No," he replied gently, deliberately shutting off the fear. "I refuse to dwell on 'what if.' They will find him, we will be fine today, and I will still have a chance to set up another evening of your dreams." He gave her a tender look. "And sorry, I already checked. The Hope Diamond isn't for sale."

She laughed. "It was worth a shot. Seriously, love— just so you know, I've never really been one for 'rocks;' simple and classic is more my style."

"I shall take that into consideration. Now, do you want to go throw something at Bobby, or should I? We're going to be late."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_2:30 pm_

A new week had brought no new information. It was as if Evan Graham had dropped off the face of the earth. The team had taken a break for a late lunch at two. Myles, buried in EPA reports from the other case, joined them when Tara poked her head in and invited him. He hadn't had much appetite, and he was the first to head back upstairs. Stopping in the Bullpen on his way back to the conference room, he now leaned against Tara's desk, staring hard at the photo on the board, trying to get into Graham's head. He'd managed to turn this morning's fear back into anger at the intrusion into their lives, and now it was his strength. _Less than three hours now…_

A hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked down into Sue's face as she stood in front of him. "You okay?" she asked.

His head bobbed once; then he glanced back up at the sketch, his eyes cold and his voice low. "I'll be okay when this monster's behind bars."

She nodded in understanding as the rest of the team filed in. Lucy walked over to them.

"This just arrived for you downstairs, hand-delivered." She placed a small box in Myles' hands.

"Hand-delivered?" he asked. "By whom?"

Lucy shrugged. "They said he gave his name as Matt Freeland. Isn't he one of your snitches?"

"Yeah." He looked at the box. "Hey, wait — this label is from Elizabeth's clinic. She doesn't know Matt." The uneasy feeling was worming its way through his gut again. He sat down at his desk and slit the tape on the box with a letter opener.

Inside was a bundle of black fabric, with a simple typewritten note nestled in the folds: "Thank you for last night," it read.

Bobby raised an eyebrow as Myles lifted out a silk nightgown, short and spaghetti-strapped. "I always knew there was a reason I should have learned to tango," he said softly, with a smirk. "Caught a bit of the intro last night – never knew you could dance like that."

"It can be an intense experience, yes." The blond agent absently acknowledged the quip, but Bobby had never seen him more deadly serious. "But nothing happened last night."

"Nothing? Then why were you two back in casual clothes by the time you broke down the study door?"

"Well, nothing like this." The knot in Myles' gut was tightening further. He looked up at the Aussie, his eyes betraying a combination of hatred for Graham, and fear for what this package could mean. "We didn't…I mean…"

"Gotcha, mate." Bobby spared him any further hesitation. He turned and motioned to the rest of the team. "Guys?" The rest of the team gathered around, and Bobby recapped quickly while Myles tried to get his temper under control.

Finally, the blond agent looked up. "This can't be from Elizabeth."

"So who…?" Jack trailed off as Myles laid the silk aside and pulled an envelope out of the bottom of the box. He first removed a photograph and flung it on the desk; several breaths were drawn in simultaneously as it came to a rest. The photo was of Myles and Elizabeth, in the rather passionate embrace they had shared the night before. It had been taken from outside.

"That was taken last night. Guess that confirms he was watching us." It didn't seem that the baritone voice could go much lower. Myles pulled a piece of paper out of the envelope and flipped it open, his other hand reaching for his cell phone. He read it once, then his eyes closed as he hit the speed dial and brought the phone to his ear. Jack reached over and retrieved the note from the taller agent's now-shaking hand. He opened it and read it aloud.

"'I do hope you enjoyed her, Agent Leland. It was the last time. I must admit, she is lovely. I look forward to sampling her myself before I kill her.'" Jack looked up. "Bobby, call her office _now_." The Aussie was already on the phone.

"No answer on her cell." The shaking had spread to his voice. "Evan Graham had best hope one of you finds him before I do."

"Got her, mate." The three words out of Bobby's mouth were like music. "Liz, clear out your patients — we're coming to pick you up right now." He listened for a moment…and the color drained from his face.

In a single fluid motion, the Aussie dropped the phone, grabbed his coat and ran for the door. Jack and Dimitrius followed without question, but Jack paused in the doorway.

"Myles. Come on."

The blond agent looked up in surprise. "I can't"

"I know," was the sober reply. "But I want you where I can see you."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

"Sure, Bobby. I'm surprised Amy didn't pick up the call— she must have her hands full. I only have one patient left today anyway. It's a first-time consult, so I should be done by the time you get here." She glanced over her shoulder as a man walked into her office. "Have a seat, Mr. Evans. I'll be right with you." Turning back to the phone, she continued, "Is there a problem?"

The sensation of cold steel against her neck stopped her short, and the sound of a hammerlock being pulled back froze her heart. A hand reached over her shoulder for the phone, and a quiet voice said, "No problem at all, Dr. Dillingham."


	13. Chapter 12: Caught

**Chapter 12: Caught**

_Sutherland Psychiatric Clinic, near McPherson Square_

_Monday, 14 June_

_3:00 PM_

Evan Graham's voice slid into her consciousness like a blade. "So much for protective custody," he whispered as he dropped the phone onto its cradle. "I guess the FBI isn't all it's cracked up to be after all."

_So close… we were so close, Myles… oh, you were right… _Elizabeth felt her knees give out, and she gripped the edge of her desk, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her faint. Her fingers brushed a button on the underside of her desk. _The recorder_, she thought. _If all else fails, at least there will be some evidence he was here._ She pushed the button, turning on the digital recording unit she used for patient sessions. Then she tried to think of a way to let someone know it was on.

"So silent, Dr, Dillingham?" Graham stepped around and grabbed her chin roughly. She met the blue eyes with a defiant gaze of her own, and felt his hand tighten on her face. "You should have thought of that when you chose _not_ to keep your mouth shut eight years ago," he hissed menacingly.

She didn't move, since the gun was still trained on her. But her own voice was filled with a bit of anger. "If you'd chosen not to slaughter your wife, we wouldn't be here at all, would we?"

His hand dropped to her throat, and suddenly it was much harder to breathe. But the movement caused something to shift on her wrist, and she remembered she was wearing a silver bracelet Myles had given her last Valentine's Day. Her hands had landed close enough together that she could undo the delicate clasp without Graham noticing. A second later, the herringbone chain dropped to the floor without a sound.

Elizabeth refused to drop her gaze, or to indicate that the blood was now pounding in her ears. His voice in her ear was perversely soft, and she was so very glad he wasn't a baritone. "What I did was between my wife and I, within the marital relationship. You and the rest had no right to interfere."

She couldn't stop a snort of disgust from escaping, and she felt his hand tighten. She could barely get the words out. "You need to go back… and read the rules of marriage again," she choked.

A truly evil smile spread across his features, and he released his grip on her throat and grasped her arm, nestling the gun against her ribs. "Well, my lovely shrink," he whispered again, "we'll have plenty of time for you to enlighten me. Let's go." **— 3:04**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_Between the Hoover Building and the clinic_

_3:00 p.m._

"Can't you make this thing go any faster?" Myles leaned up toward the driver's seat.

Bobby glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Only if you don't want to get there in one piece, mate. It's only a couple more blocks."

Jack turned around in the front passenger seat to look at Myles. It took a split-second to evaluate what he was seeing. Then he spoke, putting enough authority and power into his voice to break through the emotional storm he saw brewing.

"Myles."

Blue-grey eyes met his.

"You have between here and the clinic to get a grip, or I will put the cuffs on you myself and lock you in this car. I don't want to have to worry about you blowing this guy away in a fit of anger."

The blond agent looked at him for a moment, then nodded, taking a deep breath. A movement later, Jack was looking at a handgun being held out to him, barrel down. He met his friend's gaze again, and nodded soberly as he took the firearm.

"All right. D, what's SOG got?"

Dimitrius was just hanging up his cell phone. "They haven't got a clue, Jack. There's been no one in or out of that building since 2 p.m. And everyone else checks out – each one that's gone in has come out."

"How's that possible?" Bobby was incredulous.

"I don't know," was the older agent's reply. "But apparently Even Graham has covered all his bases." He noticed a wince from the younger man next to him, and laid a hand on Myles' shoulder. "We'll find her, Myles. She was wearing that pin you gave her, right?"

Myles nodded. "Yes. I saw it on her blazer this morning. Her last appointment… we were so close…" He glanced at his colleagues, then made an effort to get control of his emotions. "Sorry. It's just been a feeling that was eating at me ever since this morning."

**3:05—** They pulled up at the clinic, and Bobby and Dimitrius immediately headed into the building. Jack gave Myles one last penetrating gaze. "We'll wait and see what they find first."

It only took a minute before D's voice came over the radio. "The clinic's pretty much deserted, Jack," he said. "Looks like Liz and Amy were the last ones here."

"Yeah, well, Amy didn't leave," Bobby added tensely. She's right here by her desk with a bullet in her heart. Probably died instantly."

Jack listened, then turned to Myles, who didn't have his radio. "Amy's dead," he said, watching the reaction. "Shot through the heart."

The blond agent had to take an extra breath before he could speak. "Elizabeth?"

"Hang on." Jack listened again as D's voice sounded in his ear.

"There's no one here, Jack. However he got in, he must have taken her out the same way. Nothing looks disturbed at a first glance."

"All right. Stay there for a minute." He looked up at Myles. "She's not there. I think it's safe to assume he's taken her somewhere else." Jack turned away for a moment at the pain he read in his friend's eyes. "We could use your help, just for a minute."

"How? I can't…"

Jack looked at him straight-on again. "D says it looks like nothing's been disturbed. We could use someone who knows Elizabeth and her office setup pretty well. We're under the gun here, so to speak. The sooner we figure out where he's taken her, the sooner she'll be back in your arms."

**3:08— **Myles walked into her office, trying to clear his head enough to be of some use to them. He looked around, mentally reviewing the last time he'd been here. Something definitely felt different, but he couldn't place what. His eyes swept the room, then focused on the tan carpet. A slight glitter by her desk caught his eye, and he reached for Jack's arm. "There, on the floor by the right corner of her desk. Something shiny."

Dimitrius was closest, and he knelt down to retrieve a delicate chain. "Silver bracelet," he stated.

Myles nodded. "I gave it to her for Valentine's Day. But the clasp is fairly secure; it wouldn't have just fallen off…"

"It's still intact," D observed. "Which means Graham didn't rip it off her arm."

Suddenly Myles remembered something. "D, look just under the edge of her desk."

The older agent did so. "A button for something. And a green LED lit up."

"Bobby, open up that closet right there." The blond agent's voice held a trace of excitement.

The Aussie drew back the bi-fold doors to reveal a compact computer station. There was a program running that looked a bit like a CD player. "A recording device of some sort?"

Myles nodded. "She uses it for her patient sessions, so she can review them later. She must have been close enough to the button to activate it, then slipped the bracelet off her wrist so we'd figure it out."

"Smart lady," D said with a faint smile. "It may also give us some evidence against him." He turned off the recorder, then restarted it. They listened intently as the conversation replayed. Several heads shook in amazement at Elizabeth's responses to Graham.

"She's got nerve, I'll say that for her," Jack commented.

"She's running on anger right now," Myles replied softly. "It's the only defense she has. If she can stay angry enough at him, he can't get into her head as much."

They heard the sound of handcuffs being clicked around wrists, and then a shuffle, as if someone had been pushed. Fading footsteps, then silence… until Dimitrius' and Bobby's voices faded in about a minute later.

**3:14— **"He hasn't got that much of a head start," Bobby said.

"Yeah, but _where_? How'd they get out with no trace?" Jack was scanning the room again, and noticed a door on the back wall of the office. "Myles, what's that lead to?"

"It's a direct access to the parking structure below," the Harvard grad answered, glancing over.

Bobby walked over and slowly turned the knob, then pushed the door open with his gun. "It's quiet."

"Bobby, look." D knelt down again. This time he picked up a small ring, nestled in the corner of the doorsill. He looked up at Myles, who nodded. D chuckled. "She's good. You sure you can't talk her into switching careers?"

"Never thought I'd be happy to see a woman who has a thing for jewelry," Bobby quipped.

A shade of a smile crossed Myles' face. "It makes for very little agonizing over what to get for a gift."

"Let's go, guys," Jack said. "Maybe we can catch him before he gets too far."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:13— **Elizabeth had never been so glad that she was a "jewelry hound." The several delicate rings she favored on her hands had become indispensable in the past few minutes. The last one slipped from her finger as Graham dragged her over to a steel door in the underground parking area for the physicians in the complex. She could barely make out "WDC Utility" stamped on the door.

"Inside," he said roughly, swinging the door open. She stumbled into the dark tunnel, almost losing her balance. He had cuffed her hands in front of her before practically shoving her down the stairs of the private entrance in her office that led directly to the parking area.

"Now." His hand clamped on her arm again, the gun bruised her ribs, and his voice hissed in her ear. "We're going for a little walk. And there's no point in trying to make a break for it. There are only two exits in the space we're covering: your clinic and my car. And I just locked the one we came through. It has to be unlocked from the _outside_, by the way, unless you have a special key, which I have and I really don't think you want to go searching for." The gun caressed her cheek briefly. "As much fun as that might be. So you're going to behave yourself, or it will just add to all I have planned for you later. Do you understand?"

She nodded, cringing at the feel of his cheek against her hair, trying to keep in her head that his comments were simply meant to frighten her.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:15— **As they worked their way down the stairs, Jack was on his phone. "Tara, activate that tracker in Elizabeth's pin."

There was a second's silence, then her voice, strained. "It's not working, Jack. I can't pull it up."

"What?" Heads turned at his voice, but he ignored them. "Is it the program or the tracker that's the problem?"

"It'll take me a few minutes to determine that. But I can type faster if I'm not carrying on a conversation at the same time."

"Hand the phone to Lucy, then. I'm not hanging up." Jack turned to the other three agents, who had all stopped on the stairwell. Myles' face in particular made the shorter agent wish he didn't have to tell them. "Tara can't activate the tracking device. She's trying to find the problem now."

"You think Graham figured out what it was?" Bobby asked.

"I'm not going to stop to speculate now," came the tense reply. "Let's go. Keep your eyes out for any more of Liz's trail-markers."**—3:19**

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:23— **They walked in dark silence for about ten minutes; then she saw a light ahead.

"Here's our stop," he whispered gleefully. He suddenly spun her around, pinning her against the access ladder with his body. The gun caressed her cheek again, and she turned her face away in disgust. "Now, now, my lovely captive," he murmured. "There's no need to shy away. I have no intention of doing anything until we're someplace I know we won't be disturbed."

The fact that her bound hands rested about six inches below his belt-line made Elizabeth want to retch, but it also gave her an idea. In as quick a movement as she could, she twisted her hands until she could dig her nails savagely into the sensitive area between his legs. _Let it be enough, dear Lord, PLEASE…_

Graham yelped and jumped back, but she hadn't had the correct angle to do any actual damage, so she followed up with a kick to the same area that missed but caught his knee. He went down, hard, and the gun spun out of his hand. Elizabeth sprinted back toward the other access door, but a deafening roar stopped her short and a spark lit the wall not a foot from her.

Graham's hand grabbed her arm before she could recover from the sound of the gunshot. He slammed her up against the steel wall with enough force that her head spun for a moment. "Perhaps you haven't quite grasped the order of things here," he hissed. "I'd forgotten you were one of these independent types. I guess we need an early lesson."

**3:25— **His fist flashed out as he backhanded her, hard, right at her cheekbone. Elizabeth forced herself not to cry out, even as pain shot clear back to her spine. She faced him defiantly, letting the anger flow through her and keep her strong.

He grabbed her arm again, pulling her close but staying behind her this time. "That was a very unwise move," he growled fiercely, dragging her back to the access hatch. Suddenly they heard voices from the other end of the tunnel. Graham grabbed her hair and yanked back, hard. "One word, one sound out of you and I will start firing down that tunnel. And I don't much care whether I hit your lover or one of his buddies. Up the ladder. Now."

**3:27— **Still a little dizzy, Elizabeth meekly climbed the access ladder. Once they were out of the tunnel, Graham pushed her over toward a nearby car. He reached into the passenger seat and pulled out a zipper bag containing a white cloth. "I think we'll just make sure you don't pull anything else like that," he said, snapping the bag off the cloth. In a lightning movement, he pressed the cloth over her nose and mouth, holding her tightly as she struggled.

Her last coherent thought before the darkness took her was, _Oh, Myles, I'm so sorry… _

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:23— **The last ring was gold, looking so very much like a wedding band that Myles had to shut his eyes. _So close, _he thought. _We were so damn close to being safe. _

They'd found the ring next to a utility tunnel entrance. A single scrape on the concrete floor indicated the door had been opened recently. Just as they approached it, there was the faint but distinct sound of a gunshot echoing from inside the tunnel.

"Bobby…" Jack's voice was tense as he watched Myles' reaction.

Bobby already had his lock-picks out, working on the door. "On it, mate."

"That explains how he got in," Dimitrius commented. "He probably had this planned out before we ever realized Elizabeth was the target. He could start from two miles away, and nobody would ever connect it up."

"Bet he made a special key like the ones the utility company has," the Aussie added. "These doors aren't made to be locked from the inside by accident; too many chances of kids wandering in while they're working on the lines. Workers go out another hatch, lock it behind them; the kid would be stuck."

**3:26— **After what seemed like an eternity, but by Jack's watch was three minutes, the door swung open. There was an indistinct sound from far down the tunnel. Bobby and D each pulled a flashlight out of their pockets and went in, fast but cautious. Before they heard any more voices, there was a muffled clanging, like a hatch being closed.

Myles started to follow, but Jack held him back. "We're staying right here," the dark-haired agent said. "No chances, unarmed or not."

The blond agent nodded, holding his breath. For a split-second, he could have sworn he heard Elizabeth's voice: _Oh, Myles, I'm so sorry…_ But he brushed it off as just worry.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:28— **Evan Graham gazed at the still form lying in the trunk of his car. _Too late, G-man. I heard you all… you waited too long, left her too accessible… now she's mine, and I will make sure you will have evidence of all that transpired… but too late to do anything but mourn. How deep is she in your heart, I wonder?_

He slammed the trunk shut, then reached back into the passenger window and retrieved a small envelope. He flung it down into the utility tunnel, then replaced the cover, got into his car, and drove away. **—3: 30**

**-!-**

**-&-**

**3:31— **About five minutes later, D's voice echoed over the radio. "It's clear. There's no one here, but we found where they exited."

Jack and Myles followed his voice at a dead sprint.

**3:34— **He stared at the envelope. _Special Agent Myles Leland III_, it read in an ornate script. Evan Graham had apparently put his computer to good use. Myles' hands were shaking as he slipped on a pair of gloves and took the note from Bobby. Only the fact that there'd been no blood found at all had him still functioning. The rest was becoming a blur.

"No." Dimitrius retrieved the note from him. "Myles, you know full well it's not a ransom note. He's just trying to run you through his maze some more. Don't let him. Leave it be."

"I have to know." The baritone voice was barely a whisper.

"Not here." After a long moment, D saw a slight nod, and slipped the note into an evidence bag.

Jack had gone up the access ladder to check out the area above. Now he called to the rest of them, and they climbed back up into daylight.

They looked all around, but the area was a narrow alley; there was no sign of a car, no sound of one pulling out. They were too late.

"We didn't miss by much," Bobby remarked, picking up a white cloth on the ground. He sniffed at it gingerly. "Chloroform. And this stuff evaporates quick. I'd say we missed them by about two minutes."

Myles was leaned up against a wall, his eyes closed, trying just to stay out of their way and on his feet. "Two minutes," he whispered. "Oh, sweetheart… two minutes."

Dimitrius came over and placed a hand on Myles' shoulder. "We did everything we could, Myles. _You_ did everything you could. We'll find her. It'll be okay."

The taller agent shook his head. "I should have insisted she stayed home today, all this time we've been messing with her schedule. I should have insisted… should have let you all handle it…"

"She'd have hated you for it, and you know it," D answered. "She chose to put her patients' well-being first. I thought that's part of why you fell in love with her in the first place."

Jack walked over. "Myles, standing here playing 'if only I'd' isn't going to help. Tara's still trying to work the bugs out of the tracking program. Let's go back to the office and see what else we can do."

"I can't go with you. Garrett will hang us both. Maybe I should just go home."

Jack shook his head. "No way, for two reasons. One: _no one _should have to face something like this alone. And two: I'd still prefer to keep an eye on you. Nothing personal."

Myles nodded. "I understand perfectly. And thank you. To the office it is, then."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, "maybe all that electronic gremlin needs is a swift kick in the CPU."

**-!-**

**-&-**


	14. Chapter 13: Desperation

**Chapter 13: Desperation**

_Bullpen, Hoover Building_

_Monday, 14 June_

_4:30 p.m._

Tara pounded on the keys of her computer with the ferocity of a concert pianist. "Come on, come _on_! Work, you stupid piece of software!" Her voice broke, and she was no longer even trying to stop the tears trickling down her face. "No! I will not lose my best friend because of some cheap piece of government-built computer _junk_!" She slammed a hand against the monitor.

"Tara." A soft voice and a hand on her shoulder brought her head up. The pain in Myles' eyes sent a fresh wave of tears down her cheeks, but she held his gaze. "Calm down. Your beating your computer to a pile of circuits isn't going to accomplish anything. Just take a breath, okay?"

She nodded, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. Then she looked up at him again. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with it. I can't even see if the camera works, because I don't know if they're in range."

"Do you need to know that to test it?" She couldn't believe how steady his voice was.

"No, but if it doesn't come up, I won't know if it's the program or if they're out of range."

Myles squeezed her shoulder. "You're doing the best you can, Tara. Elizabeth would…" His voice had been steady until that point. Now it broke slightly, and he had to swallow before he could finish. "You're doing the best you can."

"Hudson!" Heads turned from all over the Bullpen as Ted Garrett's voice boomed from the doorway. He had apparently been watching for several minutes. "My office. Now!"

Jack caught a grimace from Myles as he started after Garrett. "Don't worry," the shorter agent said. "We stick together through this." He didn't stop to catch the signed _thank you_ the blond agent managed.

Before he stepped away from Tara, Myles gave her a quick hug. "You just concentrate on that program. Try the camera, try everything. Just take it a step at a time. You'll get it. I'm going to go get out of your hair."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Jack took a breath and composed his thoughts before stepping into Garrett's office. He'd known this was coming, and he was ready with an answer. Whether it was an answer Garrett would accept, however…

He walked in, and Garrett motioned for him to shut the door. The big man didn't indicate Jack should sit down; that alone told the agent he was in for an earful. He straightened and stared straight ahead.

"It was my understanding that Agent Leland was no longer active on this case, for very obvious reasons. Which begs the question, what is he doing is the Bullpen right now trying to talk Tara out of dismantling her computer?"

Jack took a breath, and risked a glance at his supervisor. "May I speak candidly, sir?"

Garrett glared at him. "I expect you to— within reason."

Jack relaxed and looked at Garrett directly. "Ted, I wanted to keep an eye on him. He has no family here in DC, no truly close friends outside the Bureau. If it were me, I'd be going nuts waiting by myself. I'd rather have him here, knowing as much as we do about what's going on, than to worry about him sitting at home with only his imagination to lean on. Besides, this way, if he gets an urge to do something rash, there's someone to stop him."

Garrett stared at him, making no move to comment, so Jack decided to finish it off. "He's not participating in the investigation as anything other than an observer. You have my word."

The big man said nothing for a moment, weighing Jack's statement and the possible consequences. Then he looked up. "All right. I agree it's probably better to keep an eye on him. And he did seem to be helping Tara. Has she found anything in that program? Is it possible that Graham found and destroyed the device?"

Jack shook his head. "Anything's possible. I'd prefer to think it's the program, because if not, we have nothing to go on. And by the time we search this city and the surrounding areas, it will likely be too late."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

_5:00 p.m._

Dimitrius found him in one of the conference rooms. Myles had pulled one of the leather chairs over to the window and was sitting there with his eyes closed, his head dropped just slightly, and his hands folded across his chest, fingers interlaced.

D was about to speak when he saw the very slightest movement of his friend's lips, and he realized what was happening. A bit surprised at first, he then added his own silent prayers.

Myles didn't look at him afterward, simply gazed out the window for a long moment before speaking. "Yes, occasionally even I recognize the need for divine intervention. What's up?"

"Wasn't sure where you'd disappeared to is all."

"Mmmhmm. Nice try, D. Let me hazard a guess… since Jack is getting an earful from Garrett, you figured it was your job to make sure I wasn't planning a solo assault?" It was said without rancor and with the ghost of a smile. "I suppose I was; just not with me leading the way."

The older man smiled at him. "I just thought I'd see how you were doing. And don't even bother with that 'occasionally' stuff. It's not the first time I've seen you do that, just the longest stretch. Caught me off-guard is all."

Myles quirked a half-grin at him. "I really must refine my image again, if you all are starting to see through it." He sighed and turned back to the window. "How am I doing? Terrified covers it, I suppose. For the whole situation, definitely, but I know her, D. If she can stay angry, she'll give him a fight every step, and I'm afraid of what he'll do to her in retaliation. That sound we heard when Bobby got the door open, _after _the gunshot? I'll wager she found some way to escape him briefly, probably inflicted a little damage, and the shot was a warning to get her to stop. When he caught up with her, though…he probably gave her a 'warning,' so she's probably got a pretty good shiner right now."

Dimitrius had just let him talk until this point. Now he spoke. "Which probably made her even madder."

The blond agent nodded. "By the way, thank you. You were right. I don't need to see that note— at all. If Elizabeth had been standing there, she'd have told me the same thing."

"Told you she was a smart lady."

Another ghost-smile appeared. "I know. The only remotely comforting thing I have to hold onto right now is, I don't think he'll do anything to her until the chloroform wears off— no fun in that. He'll want her conscious. It gives you all a bit of a time cushion. _That_ fact is what's giving me some hope that she can come out of this relatively unscathed."

D placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I think the prayers will help those odds, too."

Suddenly, a loud whoop from the direction of the Bullpen reached them, and both men turned. Dimitrius grinned.

"In fact, it sounds like the first of those prayers just got answered."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Tara had a map of DC up on the plasma monitor. One glorious blinking light was evident in the center of it when they all reconvened. Even Garrett was in the room; Myles stopped abruptly in the doorway upon seeing him, but the big man waved him in.

"Thank you, sir," the agent murmured as he went past.

"Same rules as before."

"Yes, sir." Myles sat down in a chair by Tara's desk.

Dimitrius was at the monitor, case file in hand. "All right. We've got a location. This is the old Sketchbook Publishers office building/warehouse. It's been vacant for over a year. The signal is weak, but that's where it's coming from."

"Could the weak signal be a program glitch still?" Lucy asked.

"Doesn't have to be," Bobby replied. "With as small a tracker as we're talking, the building itself is going to weaken the signal, until we're a lot closer."

"Then I suggest we get over there, fast," Jack said.

D nodded. "Exactly. Once we get there, we'll figure out the exact game plan, but we'll take two teams in. Bobby and I will lead those teams. Tara, I'd like you, Sue and Jack in the surveillance van. Get that camera up and running, and give us an idea of where they are. That's going to be crucial."

He paused, and shared a long glance with Myles. Then he added, "My gut says we have a cushion of time, but not much. Graham wants Elizabeth conscious for whatever he has planned; the chloroform should take a little while to wear off. But she's already been out for almost three hours; we're gonna be cutting it close. Let's move."

Everyone headed for the door. Myles stayed where he was, purposely not looking at Garrett. Jack paused in the doorway, waiting to see what the verdict was.

"Agent Leland." Ted's deep voice broke the silence.

Myles looked up. "Sir?"

"I believe Agent Gans said 'move.'"

A pair of blue-grey eyes widened in almost shock.

Garrett let the smile reach only his eyes. "Jack seems to be keeping a pretty good eye on you right now. And I can't spare anyone to take his place at the moment. You know what I expect from you?"

"Yes, sir, I do. Thank you." He caught Jack's eye and hurried for the door.

Ted Garrett watched them go. Then, sighing heavily, he went back to his office, hoping he hadn't just made a tragic decision.


	15. Chapter 14: In the Cage

**Chapter 14: In the Cage**

_Basement Level, Sketchbook Publishing_

_Monday, 14 June_

_6pm_

Consciousness came slowly; the realization of what she was waking up _to_, however, did not. The bite of the handcuffs on her wrists brought the day's events back with a vengeance. She didn't move her hands, bound in front of her, because she didn't want him to know she was awake yet, and would keep it that way for as long as she could.

Elizabeth kept her eyes closed and tried to control the wave of panic rising in her throat. _My blazer is gone,_ she realized. _What did he...? Could he have...while I was out cold?_

It took everything she had to clamp down on the terror and listen to her body; after a moment, she realized that no damage had been done, save for the throbbing around her right eye. She breathed a deep sigh of relief...and was roughly grabbed and dragged to her feet.

Her eyes snapped open, and Evan Graham's ice-blue gaze loomed in her vision. Without a word, he hauled her over to a support post in the middle of the small concrete room. He pressed her against it like he had the access ladder in the tunnel, only this time he forced her cuffed hands over her head. A moment's stretch, and she found herself shackled by a small hook just higher than she could reach.

He purposely slid his hands down her arms and over her ribs and hips, then kept one foot firmly planted on her left foot while he drifted down her right thigh and calf. She gritted her teeth and refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her respond to the weight on her foot. When he reached her ankle, she heard a clink and felt something heavy wrap around her. Soon her left foot was also fettered, and she realized there would be no escape attempts again. She couldn't move her feet more than a few inches.

"Welcome, Dr. Dillingham." His voice almost oozed satisfaction. "I was rather hoping you wouldn't be asleep much longer. I am most... eager to get started."

"Don't rush on my account," she snapped, gathering the anger around herself again. "I'm in no hurry."

"I'm sure." He stepped around behind he, then whispered in her ear. "They say a well-taken picture is almost like being there, and I have been most intimately involved in your life lately, and that of your boyfriend." He indicated one of the walls.

Elizabeth had to bury a gasp. There were photographs nearly covering the wall; herself on her way to work, or puttering in her yard; walking Rachel home that last Saturday; she and Myles on her swing. There were shots of Myles leaving her house the evening after Rachel's funeral; of herself picking up the roses Graham had sent.

Perhaps most disturbing of all were shots taken at Myles' house, after protective custody had begun— herself pruning the roses, the two of them sharing a quiet moment in the living room, her silhouette against the guestroom shades as she got ready for bed. The thought of how close Graham had been made her ill.

"And then, of course..." His voice was in her ear again. "The crowing glory of all my observation." He thrust another photo in front of her face, and Elizabeth saw a blow-up of the aftermath of the tango.

"My dear," he whispered, "I had no idea that the ice princess I met eight years ago could melt into such sensual heat." His breath slid across her ear. "Tell me, does your precious G-man really fire your blood that much, or will any man's touch do the trick? Perhaps I used the wrong tactic during our interview so long ago."

Elizabeth allowed the anger to blot out the sick feeling she'd been fighting, and she turned her head until she stared him straight in the eye. "You don't know the first thing about what fires my blood," she ground out, "or any other woman's, for that matter."

Graham stepped back around in front of her, his eyes sparked with anticipation. "We'll see about that," he hissed. "And your lover will have a front-row seat, courtesy of the lovely little camera in the pin on your blazer."

Her head snapped around to where he pointed; her blazer was neatly on a hanger, hung where the camera would provide a full-length view of anything that transpired.

Graham's smile was terrifying. "I had planned to provide the FBI with a full video diary of what we are about to share," he said, "but now I don't have to. And real-time is _so_ much more satisfying."

Elizabeth's heart sank. _A camera?_ she thought silently. _Why didn't you tell me, Myles? All you said was it had a tracking device. I would have warned you— now he has a captive audience, which is just the kind of thing he'd thrive on. I hope you all have a plan in short order._

Graham read the growing fear in her eyes when he pulled her chin back around so she was facing him, and his smile grew wider with each word. "It's only a shame it's video only; he won't be able to hear you scream and _beg_ me for the mercy of killing you."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Surveillance Van/Task Force

_Just around the corner from Sketchbook Publishing_

_6:15 p.m._

Tara's laptop linked them to the program still running back at the Hoover Building, but their proximity brought the signal in stronger.

"All right," D was saying. "The signal is strong enough to tell us what area of the building she's in, but not which floor. Bobby, I want your team on the second floor. We'll take ground. There is a small basement area, which we'll cover together after the other floors are secured."

He looked around at the group, about twenty strong besides the core team. "Be _very_ quiet. We don't want to spook this guy before we have a chance to nail him, because he _will_ kill the lady quickly if he feels he has to."

Somber heads nodded all around, and D turned to Jack. "You're our backup, just in case he somehow gets past us. I don't think he'll bother moving her again, but I want that base covered anyway."

The teams moved in, and Jack stepped back into the surveillance van where Sue, Tara and Myles were waiting. Tara had just tuned in the camera unit, and was waiting for the reception to settle.

Sue was settling into what they'd come to recognize as her "watcher mode." Her concentration would be on the video screen, so they'd have to make an extra effort to get her attention. She turned now as Myles touched her arm.

His eyes were grave as he looked at her directly. "Sue, you probably already know this, but… this isn't going to be pretty. Graham's set on getting deep into Elizabeth's head, and if you're reading him… Are you sure you're going to be ok?"

Sue nodded slowly. "I'll be fine, Myles. I need to do this. She's my friend, too."

"What the—?" Tara's voice caught Myles' attention, and he motioned Sue around as well.

"What is it, Tara?" Jack was asking.

"The camera angle… it's covering the whole room, as if…" Suddenly, her eyes widened as they watched Graham point directly at the camera. "Oh, no. She's not wearing the blazer. It's—"

Sue's eyes were immediately on him. "He's saying, 'your lover will have a front-row seat…' He knows the camera is there."

Jack turned away for a moment, speaking to D and Bobby over the radio, advising them of the development and suggesting further caution. The rest watched helplessly as Elizabeth's head snapped around in shock, and her dismay was clear.

"You didn't tell her about the camera?" Tara asked.

"I thought it would only stress her out more." His tone relayed his regret.

Sue's translation echoed against the van walls. "'I planned to provide the…FBI…with a video diary…of what we are about to share…but now I don't have to.'" She shivered. "He says real-time is much more satisfying."

There was a pause as Graham jerked Elizabeth's face back around to him, then Sue continued. "He's saying its too bad the camera is video only… he—" She stopped abruptly and shot a glance at Myles, then looked back at the screen, suddenly quiet.

"Sue?" The blond agent reached over and squeezed her arm. It took a moment, but she finally looked up at him, and he read the horror in her eyes. "What did he just say? All I caught, I think, was the word _beg_. What did he say to her?"

The blue-grey flame she saw gave her the strength to answer him, as much as she didn't want to. "He said it was a shame you won't be able to hear her scream or beg him to kill her."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

"You're wasting your time if you think you're going to be torturing Myles with this." Elizabeth tried to keep her voice steady. "As soon as the FBI found out you were after me, he was taken off the case. Conflict of interest. He won't be anywhere_near _the monitor for that camera."

It was a lie; she knew perfectly well that Jack Hudson would want to keep Myles close by, just to keep an eye on him. Wherever they were, Myles would be with them, just as an observer. _I can't let Graham know that;_ _I have to be strong. For Myles, for myself. I can't let him see my fear._

"Then his friends can fill him in later." When she didn't reply, his laugh chilled her anew; but this time she glared at him with ice-cold defiant eyes.

"Oh, so now you're going to play tough, is that it?" said Graham in a mocking tone. "You have no idea how long I've waited to psychoanalyze you. I finally have my chance." The look on his face sent chills down her spine, but she wouldn't let her own expression betray her.

"You do know you brought this on yourself?" said Graham, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, yes. If you hadn't told them I wasn't crazy, you wouldn't be here now."

"You weren't crazy. You aren't now. You killed your wife in cold blood. If—"

The flat of his hand ripped across her face again, in almost the same spot as before. "I'd keep your mouth shut, if I were you," he said coldly. "You cost me eight years in solitude from any woman, and you are about to repay that debt personally before you die. But it wouldn't be polite to take what I want without some semblance of propriety, now, would it? We must take these things slowly."

He leaned close to her and placed his hand gently behind her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. She turned her head away sharply, unable to bear the thought of kissing him. At that, he roughly pulled her hair so she faced him, and forced his lips onto hers. His other hand pushed up under her blouse, stroking, kneading sensitive areas, but there was nothing tender in his touch. His purpose was control, domination, and it made her sick.

His passion wasn't returned. For a moment she automatically imagined it was someone else's hands on her, then she stopped. _No,_ she thought. _I will not equate him with Myles, because Myles would never do this to me. I will need Myles' touch later, to wipe all this away. _She endured Graham's touch dispassionately, giving him no reaction at all. She was fervently glad, however, that Graham's right hand was not visible from the camera.

He stopped abruptly in disgust and glared at her. "I'd thought you'd be much sweeter. I think I'll actually be doing Agent Leland a favor by freeing him of you."

"You don't know a thing about Agent Leland." She glared right back at him. "Let's just leave him out of this."

"You know, you remind me of the late Mrs. Graham. Such a tragedy. She too, had submission problems; too free-spirited, like yourself. Free spirits require… taming," he said, giving her another assessing look. "But those other girls, they were innocent. You caused their deaths…"

"No!" It came out with every ounce of certainty she'd gained earlier when she battled with this very thought. "I caused _none_ of this. This is _your_ doing, Evan, not mine."

He smiled again, and it unnerved her that none of this seemed to be affecting him at all. "So it is. And all of it is for you, dear doctor. Every step I've taken, every life snuffed out, has been for you alone. Eight lives, four cities, a trail of blood spanning your whole life…" His voice dropped to a whisper again, and his lips brushed her left cheek. "Elizabeth."

She shuddered at his use of her given name, and her loathing for him and the whole situation grew with each word he uttered next.

"That's all he ever calls you, isn't it? Your precious G-man. An elegant name, I must admit. So refined, so genteel…and so very sensual across the lips. E-liz-a-beth." He pulled back to stare deep into her eyes, and smiled as her face paled a shade or two. "Tell me, does he whisper it in your ear when you tremble beneath him? Does he gasp it in the heat of climax? Is it on his lips when—"

"_STOP IT_!" Her control broke, and it came tumbling out before she had a chance to think. "How _dare_ you! Myles and I have never… we're not…"

Too late she realized her mistake, and she watched in despair as his smile took on a truly delighted quality. "Such a wonderful revelation," he purred. Then his eyes moved to speak directly to the camera. "Tell him for me, agents. I get her first…and last."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Although his eyes never left the screen, he knew she was having a difficult time. He could hear it in her voice, could almost feel her shaking in the close confines of the van. But her eyes never wavered, and the realization of the lengths she would go to for a friend— no, for _any_ victim— made Myles long to take back every disparaging comment he'd ever made to or about her. She shared his passion for justice and to _make_ things come out right, and he'd shut out every opportunity he'd had to grant her place on the their team.

Suddenly, the conversation they were observing took a much more personal note. He wasn't sure how it was happening, but he could pick out the gist of the dialogue almost before Sue translated.

Graham's little overture toward Elizabeth had sickened and enraged him, particularly since he had a fair idea of what the man's right hand was doing, even if it wasn't visible, but he'd kept his cool. Now, he felt pure fury radiating from the gentle lady beside him, fury he hadn't experienced even during their "disagreement" over the Brian Guthrie issue.

Sue's voice was low as she spoke. "'Eight lives, four cities, a trail of blood spanning your whole life…Elizabeth.'"

Not one of them missed the look on Graham's face as he whispered in the psychologist's ear. Jack shifted angrily in his seat, and Tara's eyes were wide and frightened for her friend.

Sue continued, her voice shaking a bit now. "'That's all he ever calls you, isn't it? Your precious G-man. An elegant name, I must admit. So refined, so genteel…and so very sensual across the lips. E-liz-a-beth. Tell me, does he whisper it in your ear when—'"

In a flash, Myles _knew_ where Graham was about to go with his horrific comments, and the thought of Sue being dragged through it along with Elizabeth was too much. She jumped as his hand covered her eyes and turned her away from the screen; then her own hand ripped his away as she glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sue, enough," he replied. "It's bad enough Elizabeth has to endure this. You shouldn't have to endure it as well."

She blinked at him, but her voice was steady. "I appreciate that, but I can't just—"

"Guys?" The tension in Tara's voice drew him back, and he brought Sue with him, refocusing their attention on the screen just in time to see Elizabeth screaming something at Graham, her hands jerking against the handcuffs in her anger.

Sue's eyes narrowed. "Something like...'Myles and I have never...we not..."

"Uh-oh." It came from Jack and Myles in unison, but it was Jack who continued immediately into the radio. "Bobby, D...best shift into high gear. We're running out of time."

Sue's voice shook as she delivered Graham's message. "'Tell him for me, agents. I get her first…and last.'" She turned and placed a hand on Myles' arm, aching at the pale shock she saw as he realized exactly what Evan Graham planned to play out in front of their eyes. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

"Only one problem, mate." Bobby replied into his radio as D and his team met them at the stairwell. "There's nothing here."

"What do you mean, _nothing_? You should be less than fifteen feet from them."

"He's right, Jack," Dimitrius added. "There's no doorway, no stair access… nothing but a blank wall. From the specs there's a room here, but no way to access it."

Jack sighed heavily and looked at the monitor. Both Elizabeth and Graham were looking around as if they heard voices. Graham's smile got even wider, even as Elizabeth's expression flashed with hope. "Bobby, they can hear you. You guys are right on top of them."

"Then there has to be another way in."

Tara was poring over the map of utility tunnels they'd secured after Graham's escape from the clinic. "Jack, there's no access into Sketchbook from the utility tunnels except one, and it's at the other end of the basement."

"I'm telling you, this is a fully solid wall," Bobby replied. "Studs, drywall, plastered…it's one piece."

"Well, I don't believe this nut is a magician," Jack said, frustration edging his voice. So keep looking."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

The Aussie accent had never sounded so wonderful. Elizabeth looked around, waiting for a door or a wall to burst open.

Graham was chuckling as he listened. "So perfect. They can all listen from just a few feet away, completely helpless as you scream."

She'd had enough. The fear was gone, leaving only anger and cold resolve. If she was going to die, it certainly wasn't going to be after satisfying whatever perverted fantasies Evan Graham had planned. _Myles, my love, _she thought, reaching out however she could and hoping he would understand, _I'll not let him take what I would choose to give to you, if I had the chance. Even if he kills me, I will die still yours alone._

Her voice was low but steady. "What makes you think I wouldn't rather goad you into beating me to death before I give you any pleasure?"

He leaned against the wall, surveying her with a smile. "Of course I expect you to do that," he said easily. "But it won't do any good."

So smooth. So unconcerned, even with the FBI not twenty feet away. _What's he holding up his sleeve?_ she thought, a tendril of fear beginning to work its way into her heart again.

Her eyes flickered toward the voices again, wondering why they couldn't find her. _What's wrong? They have the tracker, the camera…_ The thought trailed off as she remembered something Graham had said. _He said it was a shame the camera was video-only; that means…Sue!_ The handcuffs were tight; she couldn't sign, but she could still fingerspell. _I have to get him to tell me how they can find us…_

He was back at her side now. "Would you like to know _why_ all your loathing will do no good, why even if you are bruised and bleeding you will still scream for me?" He stroked her cheek, and it took everything she had to not turn away.

She took a breath and forced her voice steady. "I think I'd rather know why you're so confident they won't find us. The other…can wait." The next words were like acid over her tongue, but she managed them. "Until _I'm_ sure we won't be interrupted as well."

His eyes narrowed— he knew full well she was mocking him. "All right, then," he murmured, "so you'll be sure as well."

For the first time since she'd been restrained, he stepped around so his back was to the camera. Elizabeth gently flexed her fingers, willing some circulation back into them; she'd expected that he knew someone could figure out at least bits and pieces of what he was saying. What he didn't know was that she could communicate to them without speech.

"I've been rather busy setting up our little nest here," Graham said, his lips back at her ear. "I had plenty of time between the Baltimore girls and now to seal off the access from the office building. There's a whole new unbroken wall there. No one would ever know there had been a door once."

Her fingers moved. O-F-F-I-C-E A-C-C-E-S-S S-E-A-L-E-D.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

"There's got to be a way in there." Jack, Tara and Sue were poring over the map again.

Myles was staring at the monitor, his eyes narrowed. Graham had stepped around so his back was to the camera. Suddenly, the agent grabbed a pen out of his breast pocket and snatched at the legal pad on the counter in front of them. The movement brought heads around.

"Myles?" Jack asked.

The Harvard grad shook his head for a moment, his eyes riveted on the screen and the pen moving on the paper. _…F-I-C-E S-C-C-E-A-A A-E-S-L-E-D._

Sue glanced over at the pad. "What's that?"

He pointed at the screen. "Elizabeth. She was just fingerspelling something. I'm sure of it."

Sue looked at what he'd written. "But that doesn't make…" Then she laughed softly. "Switch the S and the A, Myles. See if it makes sense now."

He did so. "…fice access sealed. Office. Graham put that wall up!"

**-!-**

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"There was a utility access door, but I made my own, leading straight into this room. It's not on any map, and I have a few surprises set up for anyone snooping around."

His eyes lit up with almost manic pride. Elizabeth knew she had to hold his attention long enough to get the message across. "That's quite a setup." N-E-W U-T-I-L-I-T-Y A-C-C-E-S-S I-N-T-O T-H-I-S R-O-O-M "I must admit… I never thought anyone would go to such lengths on my account." B-E C-A-R-E-F-U-L. T-R-A-P-S O-F S-O-M-E K-I-N-D S-E-T.

Jack was in his Kevlar before they even finished her message. "Tara, very quietly, tell Bobby to get over here, but leave D and both teams looking. Make sure he's aware we don't want Graham to know we're onto him." He checked the map for the utility tunnel access, then headed out.

Tara spoke into her radio for a moment. Then she sat back. "Now we wait— I never realized how much I _hate_ that word, you know?"

Sue nodded fervently. Myles was staring at the legal pad, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought. In a sudden movement, he was on his feet and across the length of the van.

"Hold it right there." Tara caught his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

Blue-grey eyes met hers with an intensity that was palpable. "Tara, by the time Bobby gets out here and over to Jack, any number of things could have happened. I'm not letting him go down there by himself."

"Then I'll go. Not you."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Tara, if I'm on that radio, in your place, Garrett will have me for lunch. I'm not going after Graham, I swear. I'm going simply as a backup set of eyes for Jack. My sidearm's locked up there." He motioned to an overhead bin and showed her the empty holster at his hip. He stared her down until she nodded; then he opened the cabinet. "Pete's new toy in here?"

"From R & D? Yeah. He says it's been fully tested. It should be enough for what we've seen here."

"Good. In case I _can't_ avoid Graham, I want the element of surprise. And I can get this set up en route."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Graham stroked her cheek again, sliding his hand over her face as he stepped around until he was facing the camera again. "Now then… since there's no way we can be interrupted…"

She didn't want to hear it, but she knew she couldn't keep up the pretense; he wasn't buying it anyway. So she went back to telling him exactly what she thought. "You can't possibly think I'd give you the satisfaction of reacting at all to you. I'd rather have you beat me senseless."

"As you wish." His hand swung again, a fist this time, smashing across her jaw. Stars exploded across her vision, and a coppery taste spread over her lips and tongue. Still she made no sound, and he grabbed her chin roughly, leaning in until his lips were just a half-inch away, perpendicular to hers.

"You see, dear doctor," he hissed, his voice the travesty of a caress, "I observed quite a number of, shall we say, very interesting practices during my eight years in prison. Wonderful little scientific discoveries that I couldn't _wait_ to try out on you. One of them involved a very new, very young inmate— a rather sought-after commodity in prison, given the lack of companionship." He leaned closer, the words imprinting on her cheek. "The discovery was this: no matter how much you loathe it, if you are not given the opportunity to escape, and if your 'benefactor' is very patient, your own body will betray you into reacting to… certain stimuli."

Her eyes widened in shock; then a deep, bone-shaking tremble took her. He felt it, and his smile grew sadistically delighted again. "It doesn't matter if you are in pain, or how much you hate me. You _will_ gasp as the pleasure takes you, all the while hating yourself for it, and you _will_ scream. I will take everything that you are, I will totally _destroy_ you. You will beg me to kill you, and then you will die. It is simply a matter of _time_, my beautiful creature. And we have all the time in the world."

His hand slipped under her shirt again, in the back this time, running his fingers over her skin and pausing over the clasp on her bra. "All the time in the world. And your precious G-man will be too late. But your destruction will be preserved on film forever."

A wave of terror swept over her, and her fingers shook.

P-L-E-A-S-E H-U-R-R-Y.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Two sets of wide eyes stared at the screen. Sue was shaking; Tara was on the radio, trying to bury the sick feeling in her stomach. "Guys," she said. "Hurry up. _Please._"


	16. Chapter 15: Showdown

**Chapter 15: Showdown**

_7 p.m._

Jack kept the flashlight beam about six feet ahead of him, scanning the floor and walls for signs of trigger mechanisms. He had no way of knowing whether Graham's "surprises" were in the form of alarms or weaponry, so he opted to believe the worst. That mentality had kept him alive in this job for quite awhile now.

He'd only gotten about ten feet when a second beam reached his sightline and a voice whispered from behind him.

"Tripwire."

Jack froze, shining the beam around.

"Six o'clock, about five inches from your foot."

He gingerly stepped over the wire, then sighed and whispered back, "Thanks. Wow, you made good time from clear—"

The silhouette that stepped toward him was the right height, but more slender than he'd expected. Jack's voice reflected his concern. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching your back." Myles stepped over to him. "Bobby's still at least a minute behind me, so I thought you could use an extra set of eyes."

"You do realize the mess you're putting us both in."

Urgency tinted the baritone voice. "You're not going alone. I'm not armed, he'll never see me, and we're wasting precious time. Any further complaints?"

Jack sighed again and shook his head. "No. Come on, then. And keep your eyes open."

**-!-**

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**-&-**

She wasn't able to repress a breath of relief as his hand finished its stroke down her back without any removal of her clothes. Graham watched her with almost a clinical detachment, but his eyes were bright.

"Hmm. Interesting."

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and her voice dripped scorn. "What?"

"It would appear the mere _suggestion _of sexual contact is enough to unnerve you."

"I can't _imagine_ why." She rolled her eyes at the ceiling, trying to regain her equilibrium. "Must be the company."

He ignored her, still in analytical thought. "I can have some fun with this. The intimation alone should be enough destructive force. By the time I get around to actually touching you, your psyche will already be so shattered that you will indeed beg me to just kill you."

The anger flared again, and she embraced it. Gathering it around her, she responded as no words could convey; she spat directly in his face.

He backhanded her, snapping her head sideways until it connected with the support post. The sensation was like being hit twice, and her head spun. Tears sprang up, but she looked directly at him, green eyes blazing.

"Point for me, Evan," she rasped. "Your temper is _my_ weapon. I keep your fury aimed at me, there's no room for the scientist. That's my power over you. A _woman_, in control of Evan Graham. Boy, I bet that just kills you."

His fist slammed lower this time, catching her right below her diaphragm. She gasped for air, her shoulders aching as the reaction doubled her over, wrenching them in their sockets. Before she could recover fully, though, he pressed her back up against the post, pinning her in place. The clasp he'd avoided moments ago was irrelevant as he reached under her blouse and ripped the fabric beneath apart with his bare hands. His fingers pinched her hard, the nails just long enough to send sharp spasms of pain through her chest. It took all she had not to cry out, and when he released her she looked down to find two points of blood on her shirt.

"And that's just with my hands," he hissed in her face. "You just wait until it's my teeth."

Elizabeth let the tears fall freely now, but she met his anger with her own. "You won't get the chance. I know your soft spot, Graham, and I'll use it until I'm dead at your feet and you no longer have a toy for your amusement."

"Not if I break your jaw first, you won't." He hit her again, and for a split-second she thought he'd done just that. Then she heard a voice that sounded as if it were from heaven itself.

"I think you've done quite enough damage to the lady for one day." Jack Hudson was in the doorway, gun pointed directly at Graham. "Make that for a lifetime. Hands on your head."

The relief that surged through her was so intense she almost blacked out. Unfortuately, the reaction brought her forward just enough to block Jack's line of fire. Graham reacted almost instantly, stepping behind the support post, using her as a shield. His own gun came out from the back of his waistband, and he fired practically from the hip. The point-blank report from the handgun nearly deafened her, and stunned her enough that she almost missed the result.

Almost in slow-motion, Jack spun backward into the doorway, landing with his body halfway out in the tunnel. She couldn't see his face, but there was no movement.

"Jack!" she gasped.

"One down," Graham chuckled. "Pity. That does mean that we're not going to have time for all I had planned."

He walked over to the desk and opened a small black case. He then picked up a hypodermic needle and a small vial. A single movement and the needle was filled. "You know," he said, all business again, "I never tested my little warfarin brew on a conscious victim. I have no idea what, if any, side effects there will be. But I do know this; as soon as it takes effect, in less than five minutes, any injury you've already sustained will be bleeding uncontrollably. You will die." He looked her up and down once. "Rather rapidly, I would surmise. Truly a pity."

**-!-**

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**-&-**

Myles stared at the still form in front of him, clamping down control so hard it almost hurt. _First Elizabeth, now Jack…even if it is just a graze…_ He pressed his handkerchief to the bleeding spot on Jack's temple, listening to Graham's words and knowing there wasn't time to wait for Bobby. Ripping off his tie, he quickly secured the handkerchief to Jack's head, then took a breath, slowly reaching for his friend's firearm. _I can't let him hurt anyone else. No more._

A hand grabbed his, and the index and middle fingers of the other hand tapped twice on the thumb. _NO_.

The blond agent gazed at him for a second, then signed _STAY_ S-T-I-L-L.

_NO_. Jack pointed at him, then spelled _NOT_ D-O T-H-I-S.

Myles made sure Jack could see what he was doing as he locked the safety on the gun. B-U-Y T-I-M-E B-O-B-B-Y. He pointed at the locked safety. _MY_ W-O-R-D O-N I-T.

Jack closed his eyes against a fresh pain, but he knew it was the only way. He nodded slowly. _YOUR_ W-O-R-D T-A-K-E. C-A-R-E-F-U-L.

A faint smile and a nod were the only response, and Myles rose silently and stepped into the doorway.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Her breathing came faster and shallower as she watched him, taking each step maddeningly slow, that damn smile on his face, taunting her with the fact that she was about to die, excruciatingly, if any of what he'd just said were true. But he hadn't touched her as he'd planned, hadn't been able to destroy her; somehow that made it easier to face. She knew the team had tried their best; undoubtedly someone else would show up, but it would be too late. She only hoped Jack was okay.

"I suggest you stop right there."

Elizabeth's head snapped around. As wonderful as it was to see him, the sight of Myles standing there with a gun trained on Graham terrified her more than the idea of Graham killing her. _Oh, no, love – I can't let you ruin your career for the likes of him – not even if it saves my life._

Graham's face lit up, seemingly unconcerned about staring down the barrel of a .45. "Ah, milady's knight in shining armor. Oh, wait." He studied Myles for a second. "No Kevlar. Guess Galahad left his armor home. Pity."

The blond agent never moved. His eyes bored right through the other man. "Put the needle on the desk, Graham, and then I want your hands on your head."

Almost jauntily, Graham moved back toward the desk, laying down the hypodermic carelessly as he continued to study the agent. "I did rather a good job on your fair lady's face, wouldn't you say?"

_No, Myles, don't look. Keep your concentration on him._ Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst.

"Put your hands on your head, Graham. Now." The control in his voice wavered just slightly, but his eyes never moved.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" There was even a swagger in the man's voice. "I would love to be around to hear you explain that one to your superiors. What you were doing in the middle of a showdown with the perpetrator in a case you're not supposed to be anywhere _near_. I imagine that would raise quite a few questions."

Graham actually took a step toward Myles. "And after I did you a favor by taming your wild one over here. She's rather a handful, isn't she? But you just have to know how to handle them."

"You tamed _nothing,_" Elizabeth spat at him. "And you lose your chance to run me through your little gauntlet. Game, set, match."

"Not quite, lovely one," Graham purred. He then cocked an eyebrow at Myles again. "Aren't you even going to look at your lover, …_Myles_?" His voice lowered, seeking access into yet another psyche. "How can you stand it, not knowing just how badly I beat her up? I guess your sense of duty is deeper in your heart than she is after all."

_No, Myles, don't…_ She heard ever-so-soft footsteps approaching, and prayed that the control would hold a minute longer.

But Graham had found the right button to push. A split-second's shift of the blue-grey eyes, but it was enough. Elizabeth watched helplessly as Graham's gun flashed again and the deafening roar echoed with the scream in her heart.

Myles slammed back against the wall and slumped to the floor, his gun spinning across the floor to just inches from her feet.

"Nooooo!" Her hands jerked against the handcuffs again, and the metal bit into her wrists, but she couldn't feel it. Felt nothing but the agonizing wrench in her heart as she willed him to move, to breathe, _anything_ to let her know it was all a nightmare.

Evan Graham walked calmly back over to the desk and picked up the needle again. "So romantic," he sighed dramatically. "You can watch each other bleed to death."

She stared him down, not even caring anymore, as he unbuttoned her slacks, pushing the material off one hip just enough for the hypodermic.

His voice was soft, the glint in his blue eyes manic as he raised the needle high to give her a good look at it. "'Do not go gentle into that good night,'" he whispered. "And you will not, believe me. There is nothing gentle about the way you will die."

A third gunshot echoed around the room just then, and the hypodermic exploded in Graham's hand. He shot backward, landing on the cot in a heap, his own gun landing a good six feet away.

"Hands on your head, mate." Bobby Manning advanced until he was only a foot from Graham, the gun pointed right at the man's head. "And I'd recommend doing it this time, because if you so much as _flinch_ in the wrong direction, I'm gonna air-condition your sorry backside but good. Do you read me?"

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

She should have felt relief; but it wasn't there, only a towering grief and rage at Graham. Stretching up until she thought her arms would break, Elizabeth managed to slide the cuffs off the hook. Without even a second thought, she bent down and picked up Myles' gun.

Bobby had Graham cuffed, and spoke as he was pulling the man to his feet. "I'd let you down right now, Liz, but I think you'd feel better if I didn't let go of this drongo. D should be here in a sec." As he turned around, he saw Elizabeth and his eyes widened. "Liz, what are you doing?"

Elizabeth straightened her arm and braced the gun with her other hand, just like Myles had shown her once at the shooting range. The muzzle came up and she sighted a spot right between Graham's blue eyes.

"Ending this," she said, her voice dead. "For good."

Graham smiled at her. "Of course. A perfect ending. You shoot me, and your whole world comes crashing down. Your enemy… your lover… your whole life… all dead. Game, set, match, Dr. Dillingham. So go ahead."

The gun was shaking now, but not enough that she'd miss. Bobby stepped around just enough to put himself between the gun and Graham. "Liz, this isn't you. Put it down. Please."

"Why?" Tears were streaming down her face now, the ache in her heart nearly suffocating her. "What have I got left? Nothing. Get out of my way, Bobby. I'll save the taxpayers a trial here and now."

He shook his head. "No can do, sheila."

"You're protecting _HIM_?" Her voice broke.

The Aussie looked at her with an intense compassion, trying to break through her trauma. "I'm protecting _you_. Besides, I think there's someone who would prefer you not end up in jail."

A warm hand closed over hers on the gun and drew it downward. Her eyes drifted shut, but not before she saw Graham's eyes widen in shock, then narrow in defeat.

"Game, set, match." A soft baritone voice spoke, with a thread of steel underneath. "Get him out of here, Bobby."

"You got it, mate. Welcome back." Bobby grinned as he hustled Graham out of the door Dimitrius and his team had just broken through to.

She was afraid to look up as slender fingers worked deftly on her handcuffs, picking the locks and releasing her at last. It was too much to process right now. _How? I saw him go down hard. This can't be real_.

But as the blond hair came into her view, as he knelt to unlock her ankles, she knew it was. She tentatively reached out, still not quite daring to believe; but when her fingers touched his hair, the control she'd been clinging to evaporated, and the tears grew into great gasping sobs. "You're alive!" was all she could manage.

Myles stood up and pulled her tightly into his arms. "It's over," he whispered into her hair. "It's all over. You're safe now." He lifted her chin until she could look into his eyes, and she saw the horror in their depths as he surveyed the damage. An infinitely gentle finger stroked the bruise around her eye, followed by the lightest brush of his lips on her forehead. "There's an ambulance waiting upstairs. Can you walk?"

She leaned against him again, nodding, not ready to release all the emotion she needed to, but joyous in the strength of his embrace all the same. Then she pulled back, a puzzled expression on her face. "What the—?" She placed her hand on his chest, pushing against the hard surface she felt there.

He chuckled. "Lightweight personal body armor, a new design by one of our geniuses down in R & D, better known as 'The Gadget Factory.' Won't do much against heavy stuff, but against a handgun, even at close range, it'll handle everything except armor-piercing, and it'll even slow that down considerably."

"So you're not hurt?"

He shook his head. "It'll likely be a little tender where the bullet hit, but no worse than when the Kevlar took a shot for me a while ago. I'm fine. But Jack's not, and you need to be checked out, too."

"I'll get Jack." Dimitrius stepped past them. "You just stay with her. Since you weren't even here."

"Excuse me?"

D gave him a look. "Even if that gun's safety was locked, you still shouldn't have been down here. Garrett will suspend you for a year, and that's if he's in a _good_ mood. Since you aren't on the case, you don't have to fill out a report, and the rest of us _never saw you down here_. Got it?"

"Got it." Myles nodded. "Although somehow I doubt that will be enough." He looked down into Elizabeth's eyes and smiled. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get out of here."

Elizabeth felt the knot of tension and terror begin to loosen, just slightly. There was a long road ahead, she knew well, but she would not face it alone. Tears came again, but these were healing, basking in the love she felt for and felt from the man at her side. The smile about killed her, as battered as her face was, but the relief and mounting joy made it inevitable. "Let's."

**-!-**

**-&-**


	17. Chapter 16: Aftermath

**Chapter 16: Aftermath**

_D.C. General Medical Center_

_Monday, 14 June_

_8 pm_

She was quiet as she sat in the exam room, waiting for a doctor to come check her out. Myles was in a chair by the bed, still holding her hand— mostly because she wasn't letting go for _anything_— but seeming to understand her need to process a bit.

Suddenly, she looked up at the clock over the door, and a gasp crossed her lips. "Less than five hours…" she whispered.

He nodded. "Seems more like a lifetime, doesn't it?" he replied softly, knowing she needed to talk, but letting her control the direction of the conversation.

Elizabeth let go of his hand and reached over to touch his cheek, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I am _so_ very sorry, love."

"For what?"

"For not listening when I should have. I was so stubborn about waiting on the safe house. If I hadn't insisted on getting my patients settled, none of this would have happened, Jack wouldn't be hurt, you wouldn't be in trouble with Mr. Garrett… and you'd be able to look at me without flinching."

He stood and, very gently, took her face in his hands, kissing away her protests with a feather-light touch. "The only reason I'm flinching is because I imagine it hurts like crazy, and I wish I could go through it for you. Love, I did the same string of 'if only I'd' when we came up out of that utility tunnel and I realized you were gone. And D and Jack told me to knock it off, that it did no good for any of us. They were _right_. So you have nothing to apologize for."

She sighed, leaning her unbruised cheek against him. "I'd still feel better if I knew Jack was okay. You told me earlier the bullet just grazed his head?"

Myles nodded again. "Yes. If you want, I'll go check and see how he's doing. Will you be all right here by yourself for a few minutes?"

"Yeah. The doctor should be in shortly anyway, I hope. I want to get out of here."

He laughed softly. "I always wondered if it were true that doctors make the worst patients. Okay. I'll be right back."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Tara jumped up from her chair as Myles came down the hall. "How's she doing?"

He moved aside as a doctor brushed past him. "All right, for the moment. I think she's still in a bit of shock."

"Understandable. She up to an extra visitor for a second?"

He thought for a moment. "I think so. She really wants to know how Jack is. She's blaming herself for him getting hurt. And for the rest of it, too, but I think that's the center point."

Tara nodded. "I think there's a whole heap of self-blame going around right now. So many things went too weird on this one. Anyway, we just got an update, so I can fill her in."

He smiled and extended an arm. "After you, then."

She filled him in on Jack's condition as they started down the hall. They hadn't gotten more than a few feet when a blood-curdling scream sounded from down the hall. Myles and Tara exchanged a lightning glance, then took off at a sprint.

They found Elizabeth cowering in the corner of the exam room, her hands over her face and the scream reduced to a whimpering, as a totally confused young doctor was just reaching for the alert button. Myles put a hand on his arm. "Wait, please."

The young man turned around, and both agents had to bury a gasp. Bright blue eyes looked back at them, and even the man's facial features… they could have been looking at Evan Graham fifteen years ago.

"I came to examine Miss Dillingham," the doctor said softly, checking her name on the chart in his hand. "But as soon as she looked at me she screamed and backed away. Who are you people?"

Tara pulled out her ID. "We're the FBI agents who just got her out of the clutches of a maniac serial killer…"

"…to whom you bear a remarkable resemblance," Myles finished. "Perhaps another physician would be more appropriate at this time."

The doctor nodded immediately. "Of course. I'll see if Dr. Coombs is available. That's _Sherri_ Coombs, by the way." He looked over to where Elizabeth was still sitting in the corner, curled in a ball, her head lying on her arms. "Can you calm her down a little? It will certainly help in determining whether her physical condition is stable enough to send her home or admit her."

Myles nodded. The doctor stepped out of the room, and the two agents hurried over to the psychologist.

She was shaking so badly that they didn't dare try to get her to her feet. Tara knelt and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Liz?"

Green eyes snapped up to look at her. "_Five hours._ Five hours of absolute hll, all because of a stupid glitch in a gadget from an organization that's supposed to be the best in the world." Elizabeth's voice was low and positively lethal. "So much for cyber-wizardry."

Tara reared back, her dark eyes widening even as they filled with tears. "Liz, that's not fair. I… I tried everything I could think of to get it to work…" She trailed off as Myles pulled her to her feet and they stepped back slightly.

"It's okay, Tara," he said softly. "Let me talk to her for a minute or so?" He quickly spelled out A-F-T-E-R-S-H-O-C-K.

Tara nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I'll just wait outside, in case she'd rather have a female friend at her side while Dr. Coombs is checking her out." She smiled as he shrugged and signed _thank you_ to her, then got to her feet and went out.

By the time he turned around again, Elizabeth had gotten to her feet and was now staring out the window, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Myles walked over to her and mirrored her pose, leaning against the opposite edge of the windowsill.

He understood; _she must be rubbing off on me_, he thought. The anger she'd relied upon during her ordeal was now protecting her from its aftermath. She needed to deal with it, though; it wouldn't be easy or quick, but venting some of that anger was the first step. Myles braced himself, mentally and emotionally, to take the lion's share of her wrath.

He took a breath, then spoke to her, his voice hardening just slightly. "Don't you think you were a bit harsh with Tara? She practically had a nervous breakdown trying to get that program debugged so we could find you."

The look in her eyes burned through him like a laser. "Harsh. This from the man who negelcted to inform me that my shiny little piece-of-junk tracking device also had a damn _camera_ in it? You think I was harsh with Tara, you haven't heard _anything_ yet, Myles."

He didn't break her gaze, and kept a tight rein on his own temper. "You want to yell at me, go right ahead. You're absolutely right. I should have told you about the camera. I'm sorry you had to find out about it from Graham."

"Every move he made, every punch he threw, every disgusting thing he said and did to me, recorded and witnessed real-time by a veritable _stadium_ of onlookers." Her voice shook, from fury or shock he couldn't tell.

"Elizabeth, if it weren't for that camera, we'd have never found you in time." His words softened with his gaze. "The tracker was too small to pinpoint which floor you were on. Bobby's and D's teams had searched that entire building before they reached the spot where you heard them. If you hadn't started fingerspelling right then, who knows how much longer it would have taken us to find you."

"Time enough for him to finish his little 'experiment,' I'm sure." Now the anger was dissipating into terror again, but she didn't move.

Myles risked a step closer to her and reached for her hand. "Sweetheart," he asked softly, "what _did_ he have planned? I was headed for the tunnel just after you told us about the new utility access. Jack was going in by himself, and I couldn't let him do that."

She shied from his touch, but her eyes met his, softening just slightly. "I had wondered how you ended up down there. How's Jack doing, by the way?"

"He's fine. The graze stunned him a bit, but he was coherent for the minute or so I talked to him before I came in to get you, and he pretty much made it to the ambulance on his feet. Tara said they're going to keep him overnight for observation, but he's fine."

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm glad of that. I feel responsible for him getting hurt in the first place, and starting that whole chain-reaction. The relief nearly made me faint, and I got in his line of fire—"

Myles gently put a finger to her lips. "I seem to recall you refusing to let me apologize for bruising your arms during my panic attack. You had no more control over your reaction than I did." When she nodded, he put his arm around her shoulders, led her back over to the exam table and sat her down.

"Now," he said, pulling over a stool so he could sit at eye level with her, "tell me what he said to you about this 'experiment.' I can tell you need some release from it. Please let me help."

Elizabeth looked at him, the faintest trace of a smile appearing. "We've been going out too long. You're starting to sound like a therapist." Getting only a persistent, patient gaze, she sighed. "All right. But it's only going to make you angry…"

When she finished, she looked up to find the same slow boil she'd seen last night (_Was it really just last night? That incredible evening turned upside-down?_). He started to speak, but had to stop for a moment. "Thank God we found you in time," was what he finally managed as the door opened and Dr. Sherri Coombs walked in.

Myles swallowed whatever he'd been about to say next. "Tara's just outside, if you'd prefer some female company during this."

Elizabeth gripped his hand tightly. "I watched you get shot tonight, love. If you can handle it, I'm not letting you out of my sight." As he nodded, she lay back on the exam table and took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

Most of the exam went smoothly; nothing worse than some contusions and a few shallow lacerations on her face. The worst of it were the deep gouges from Graham's fingernails on her breasts.

Myles kept his gaze on her face the entire time, so he clearly saw the flash of fear that crossed Elizabeth's face as Dr. Coombs asked her to draw her knees up.

"No," she replied quickly. "He didn't touch me—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Dillingham," the doctor replied. "It's procedure, given the nature of your ordeal. It will only take a second."

Tears started down her cheeks. "No, please…"

Myles saw green eyes pleading with him to step in, to intercede for her. But he knew he couldn't; certainly not officially, and not even on a personal level. He smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "It's all right, love," he said softly. "I'm right here. No one's going to hurt you. Dr. Coombs needs to do this. Then we can go home. Okay?"

Elizabeth held his hand tighter and nodded, doing as the doctor had indicated. Myles talked to her softly the whole time, watching the corners of her eyes crinkle slightly at the obviously unpleasant sensations the exam created. After about two minutes, Dr. Coombs indicated she was finished, and Myles helped Elizabeth sit up.

"Last question," she smiled. "You two are obviously a couple, but you're not…?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "We're waiting."

"Admirable, and a tad surprising these days," Dr. Coombs replied. "May I ask, just out of curiosity: that decision was—?"

"Mutual." Myles' tone indicated that was as far as her curiosity was getting satisfied.

She chuckled. "I wasn't going to ask anything else. You can relax." Then she faced Elizabeth. "You're going to be sore for several days, but there's no permanent damage. I'm going to give you some painkillers, just enough for a few days. Take one when you get home— it will allow you to sleep tonight. Keep the cold packs on your face intermittently, to keep the swelling down. That's the physical part. I'd also suggest some counseling for the rest."

Elizabeth nodded fervently. "Already in the works. I'm a psychologist in a private clinic; I already have plans to call one of my colleagues as soon as I get out of here. I _can_ go home now, right?"

Dr. Coombs smiled. "Yes, you can go home. Although I suspect you're not headed for your own house."

Myles put his arm around Elizabeth and pulled her against him. "Not tonight, anyway. I plan to keep as close an eye on her as you all will be on my teammate."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Tara stood up as they walked out of the exam room, and Elizabeth immediately went over and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry," she said. "It wasn't your fault; I know that. I understand you nearly beat your computer to death over me."

Tara returned the hug. "Hey, you have to threaten them once in awhile. You okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "'Bruised and bloodied, but unbowed.' Or something like that. What I want now is to see Jack for a second, then a hot bath, something to eat, and the warmest embrace _someone_ can come up with, in that order." She winked at Myles as he laughed. "Then I'll worry about the rest tomorrow."

"Well, I can help you with the first part," Tara smiled. "Bobby just came by and told me Jack's been moved to a room for the night. Visiting hours are about up, but I think we can sneak you in. The rest of it I'll just have to leave in someone else's capable hands."

"If you two are quite finished," Myles quipped in response, "why don't we go let someone else take the brunt of your wit." He draped an arm around each lady's shoulders with a grin. "Heaven knows, I've had enough of it for the moment."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Leland Home, Washington D.C.

_Tuesday, 15 June_

_9 a.m._

Elizabeth stretched as she slowly woke up, enjoying the sunshine streaming through the window from the curtains that had just been pulled back. As she woke fully, she realized she wasn't where she'd last remembered being.

"How did I end up in your room?" she asked Myles as he came over to sit on the edge of the bed.

He smiled. "After you passed out on the couch from that painkiller last night, I carried you up here. I figured maybe the guest room wasn't a good idea, so I slept in there and left you in here."

"Oh." She sat up, her hair falling around her shoulders, and stretched again. "At least my arms don't feel like they're being twisted off anymore."

"That's good. How's the face feel?"

Elizabeth leaned toward him. "Well enough that I can handle a real kiss from you now, I think."

He laughed softly and obliged her immediately. "No nightmares?" he asked when they parted.

Her eyes clouded over a little as she shook her head. "No. But I suspect it was because of the painkiller. This won't leave my subconscious easily, I'm afraid. I have my first appointment with Dr. Sutherland this afternoon."

Myles stroked her cheek. "They need to talk to you at the office a bit, too, preferably this morning. Nothing big, just a clarification of some things is all."

"Will Graham still be around there?" Her voice wavered again.

"I doubt it. Bobby said he was pretty much bragging all night about all this, how it took us forever to find him, how we'd have never caught him if it weren't for you and I being together. Pretty much what we expected."

She heard the edge in his voice, and smiled a little. "You're really wishing you'd had a chance to belt him before he shot you, aren't you?"

His eyes were dead serious. "Although it wouldn't help much when Garrett drags me into his office, I suspect I'm already in enough trouble that it wouldn't make a whole lot of difference. So I'm tempted to belt Graham if I see him _today_, just on principle."

"You and me both." Then she threw her arms around him and held him tightly. "Love, thank you for being here, for being so understanding. This won't be easy on either of us— and the mood swings will be wide, believe me. I've watched other patients go through the same thing. And the fact that I'm a psychologist won't make much difference— the psyche is a fragile thing no matter how well you understand it."

He held her a moment longer, dropping a kiss into her hair. "You just worry about getting back on your feet. I'm here for the duration, maybe 24/7 if Garrett decides to suspend me."

Her eyes widened in concern. "You think he will?"

Myles shrugged. "I don't feel like speculating about it. Go grab a shower; I'll toss together some breakfast, and we'll both go find out."

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Bullpen, Hoover Building

_Tuesday, 10 a.m._

Ted Garrett was waiting at the elevator. "Agent Leland, I want you in my office right now. I will be there shortly." His tone of voice revealed very little about how the ensuing discussion would go.

Myles nodded silently, gave Elizabeth a quick kiss on the cheek and headed down the hall. Garrett turned to the psychologist. "Dr. Dillingham, a word with you in the Bullpen, please."

Elizabeth cast a single glance down the hall, then nodded and preceded Garrett into the Bullpen.

A group of hugs met her, which she returned with a "thank you" to each of them. The last individual made her brows shoot up, though. "How did I just _know_ you'd be here, even if they had to bring you in a wheelchair? Don't you ever take a break?"

Jack laughed. "Not if I can help it."

Sue added, "I went to pick him up this morning at the hospital and take him home, but he pulled rank on me and gave me a _direct order_ to bring him here. What could I do?"

Ted Garrett brought the chatter to a screeching halt. "People, I have an agent waiting in my office. I want some answers before I decide whether to suspend him for disobeying direct orders, or send him back to work with you."

That got everyone's attention, and seats were taken. "Tara, I want to see the last portion of that surveillance video from yesterday." Ted watched Elizabeth stiffen, and his voice held a touch of compassion. "Dr. Dillingham, if there were any other way for me to know what happened down there, I would. But you were the only one there who can answer my questions, and my discussion with Agent Leland will hinge very highly on what you tell me here. From the last time you worked with us, I know I can depend upon your candor and honesty."

She nodded. "Yes, sir. You can."

Tara started the video, right at the point where Graham punched her across the jaw. Elizabeth flinched, hard, reliving the pain of it. Then Graham's attention focused off-camera.

"Stop it there, Tara." Garrett turned to the psychologist. "What's happening right there?"

"That's where Jack came in," she replied. The video started again; she watched in horror as she slumped forward, blocking Jack's line of fire and giving Graham time to react.

"Jack…" She trailed off, tears starting down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"

"Not necessary, Liz," Jack replied. "It wasn't anything you could control, and if I'd thought ahead enough I'd have been expecting that reaction and changed my entry angle slightly. It was as much my mistake." He held her gaze until she nodded.

"All right. Graham shot at Jack, and…?" Garrett prodded her to continue.

"Jack kind of spun back into the doorway," Elizabeth said, her composure returning. "I couldn't see any movement; I thought he was dead. After that, I was concentrating on Graham again."

"Agent Hudson?" The big man folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

Jack filled them all in on the brief conversation he and Myles had had outside the doorway. "He made sure I could see him lock the safety on the gun, Ted," the dark-haired agent said soberly. "He wasn't planning on firing. He was just trying to buy some time for Bobby to get there. Myles doesn't often back up something by giving his word, but he did this time."

Garrett nodded thoughtfully. "What was he doing down there in the first place?"

Jack related the message Elizabeth had given them, and the initial conversation in the tunnel. Tara filled in her brief argument with Myles in the van.

"We checked out that tripwire later," Bobby added. "Was a homemade version of what they used to call a 'bouncing betty'— coffee can full of buckshot, wired up to go off from above. A land mine, essentially. If Myles hadn't called him on that tripwire, Jack'd be spaghetti right now."

"All right." Garrett motioned to Tara to start the video again. They watched as Graham pulled out the hypodermic needle and headed slowly toward Elizabeth. They saw her head snap around and focus off-camera, and Graham's smile get wider. "Stop it there."

"That's where Myles came in," Elizabeth said softly. She then related Myles' words as the video started again, since he was out of the picture.

"At any time did he indicate he was planning to discharge his weapon at Graham, or to subdue him in any way?"

She thought for a moment. "No. In fact, I wondered at the time why he didn't make more of a move. But I didn't know the safety was locked."

The video continued. A second muzzle flash was visible, and then Elizabeth screaming. Graham picked up the needle again, walking over to her. Then that wonderful, awful moment when Bobby walked in and she knew, or thought, it was all over.

They watched her stretch to free her hands and then pick up the gun Myles had been holding. Garrett asked Tara to stop the film again. "Whose gun is that?"

"Myles', I believe," she answered.

"It's mine, sir," Jack answered almost simultaneously. "Myles picked it up after I got shot."

"Myles' gun is still locked in an overhead bin in the surveillance van," Sue said. "Tara and I watched him put it in there before he went after Jack."

Ted Garrett let his glare work its way around the room. "Let me get this straight. Agent Leland went down into that tunnel unarmed, then locked the safety on a fellow agent's gun after that agent was down, then proceeded to try to hold a serial killer at bay long enough for Agent Manning to arrive on the scene, getting himself shot _in the process_? And all this after I made it very clear to him that he was _not_ to be anywhere except in the surveillance van as an observer?"

Glances circled the room; then Jack, Tara, Bobby, Sue and Elizabeth all nodded quietly. Garrett sat back a bit against Jack's desk, arms still folded, processing everything he'd just heard.

"All right," he said finally. "I think I have everything I need. Dr. Dillingham, I believe Agent Gans will need an official statement from you, filling in those gaps we just covered. This will _all_ be in the case report. Am I understood?"

He left, in his wake a rather uncomfortable silence. Finally Elizabeth had to ask. "What does all this mean, guys? Is he going to suspend Myles, or worse?"

Bobby leaned back on his desk, his hands in his pockets. "Dunno, Liz. I do know one thing, though."

She raised a brow. "What, Bobby?"

"I don't _ever_ want to play cards with Garrett. He's got a poker face like a granite cliff."

**-!-**

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Ted Garrett's Office, Hoover Building

_Tuesday, 10:30 a.m._

Myles tried very hard to not fidget in the chair like some teenager sent to the principal's office, but that was _exactly_ what this felt like. _Or facing a firing squad, only you don't know when the sergeant is going to yell "Fire."_

It had been a half hour since he'd come in here, and every minute was crawling over him worse than when they were waiting for Graham to make a move before they had anything to go on. Only this time it wasn't frustration; it was a mind-numbing fear that he was about to have to find a new line of work.

The least Garrett would do, would _have _to do, was suspend him. For how long was anyone's guess. At worst, if pressure from upstairs was too severe, Myles knew his supervisor would have no choice but to terminate him.

_This is all I've ever wanted to do,_ he thought, wishing there were something to break the silence. _Even Elizabeth doesn't know that… only Sam does, I think, and that's only because I dragged him into more "cops and robbers" games when we were kids and he'd have rather been doing something else. What am I going to do if this blows up in my face?_

After a moment, he clamped down tightly on all the useless speculation. _Enough. If it comes to that, it comes to that. I'll deal with it then._ He sighed heavily. _I hope Elizabeth is all right. Having to relive any part of that nightmare so soon afterward…_

His thoughts abruptly halted as Garrett walked into the office. Myles straightened in his chair as the big man strode to his desk and sat down, slapping a folder down on the wood surface. "It would appear, Agent Leland," he began without preamble, "that for someone who I thought was very clear on my expectations during this case, you certainly managed to get yourself center stage after all."

Garrett's expression was unreadable, and Myles tried to keep his voice steady. "Yes, sir, although that wasn't my intention."

"Then perhaps you'll enlighten me as to what exactly _was_ your intention." Garrett purposely left him no time to think. "From the beginning, please. From the point at which I allowed you to walk out of here with your unit as they headed for Sketchbook. And I expect your characteristic attention to detail, if you don't mind." He reached behind his desk and flipped on a recorder that Myles had never seen used before.

"Yes, sir." Myles then quietly related the events of the previous afternoon, from his observation point, as precisely as he could remember. _As if I could ever forget it_. When he finished, Garrett allowed a long moment of silence.

Myles figured he may as well get all of it out; if he was going to hang, he would hang for who he was. "Sir, if there had been time enough to wait for Bobby to get there, I would have. I swear that to you. But there wasn't— if I had waited, Graham would have injected Eliz… Dr. Dillingham with the warfarin mixture. There is no antidote for it, certainly not one that could have been administered in time. She would have died."

"And your personal feelings never entered into it?"

The blond agent sighed. "That's not a fair question, Ted. Of _course_ my personal feelings affected my actions. I went down into the tunnel in the first place because a teammate… a friend… needed backup. I ended up with his gun on Graham because I was protecting a victim. That said victim happens to be the woman I'm in love with… I cannot say whether that changed my motivation or not. But not _once_ did I plan on revenge against Graham. As an FBI agent, I know that I am responsible for where every bullet I fire goes. The safety was locked on that gun because I didn't want even the _temptation_ to be a question later. I was buying time for Agent Manning to get there. That's all."

"Quite an impassioned speech, Agent Leland." Garrett reached back and switched off the recorder. "One final question I have to ask, though… off the record."

"Yes, sir?"

"If Graham had decided to aim for, oh let's say, your _head_, instead of your chest which was covered in the body armor… then what?"

Myles sighed, but looked Garrett straight in the eye. "Then I guess you wouldn't have had to worry about the decision you're about to make. I admit it was a risk— but it would have been a bigger risk to do nothing."

"I see." The big man leaned back in his chair. "The Director is going to want a full report on this, but he left the decision up to me. From what you have just told me, and what your colleagues and Dr. Dillingham told me earlier, I think my report will be most detailed. The question now comes, what do I do with you?"

He stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, leaning against it with much the same expression he'd had when he'd chewed Myles out for the Nora Albright situation. "Agent Leland, you are suspended for the duration of a month. This incident will go in your record. You have five minutes, from the moment I dismiss you, to get down to that surveillance van and back up here with your sidearm, or that month will become six. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Myles started to rise from the chair, but Garrett's glare backed him down again. "Is there something else, sir?"

"Yes, Myles, there is." Garrett's expression softened. "The suspension is procedure in a case like this. If it were truly up to me, I'd have you back with your unit where you belong. You not only saved the life of a victim, you saved one of your teammates, _twice_ since Jack would have undoubtedly been in a much graver condition if you hadn't been there to slow the bleeding of his wound. You showed a great deal more restraint in a critical and very personal situation than I truly had expected, and if there were any way a citation could apply here, I'd be handing it to you now." He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder briefly. "See you in a month. After the aforementioned five minutes, of course."

Myles nodded and rose from the chair. "Yes, sir. I'll be right back. Thank you."

Garrett nodded. "Dimitrius should be about finished with Dr. Dillingham when you get back from the van. Use your month 'off' well."

A smile crossed the blond agent's face. "Yes, sir."

**-!-**

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"Suspended? For a month?"

Myles looked at her with deep affection. "It won't be so bad. It's not paid, but it won't break me. Besides, this way we both have some time to regroup a bit." He stroked her cheek. "And I think we need it."

Elizabeth nodded. "I agree, but it doesn't really seem fair. You risk your life for me, and you get in trouble for it."

He laughed softly. "It's procedure when an agent who has been taken off a case gets himself embroiled back into it. Believe me, it could have been a lot worse."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. "Well, since we have two hours still before my appointment with Dr. Sutherland, and you're currently unemployed, I guess I'm buying lunch. I'm only on sick leave."


	18. Chapter 17: The Long Road

**Chapter 17: The Long Road**

_Dillingham Residence, Georgetown_

_One Week Later (June 22)_

_2 p.m._

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Elizabeth slid her key into the lock and opened her front door. "Myles, Marty Pavone is coming to your place after dinner to discuss the case against Graham. I'm basically the prosecution's only breathing witness. How can I face Graham in court if I'm afraid to walk into my own house?"

They stepped into the house. There was a musty smell, since the house hadn't been open in nearly two weeks. Elizabeth immediately walked across the foyer to the French doors that looked onto the back patio and swung them wide open, letting a breeze in. "That's a start," she said. "First step."

Myles caught the tremor in her voice, though, and walked over to stand behind her, his arms around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. "Good job," he murmured. "But if this gets to be too much—"

"You're doing it again, Agent Leland."

"What?"

She turned in his arms and gave him a brief kiss before answering. "Babying me, that's what. I love you dearly for wanting to protect me, but please, knock it off." She reached up to ruffle his hair. "What I need from you, sir knight, is a heavy dose of _tough_ love right now. And that means letting me take as many steps as I can by myself, but being there to catch me if I fall too hard. And not letting me crawl back into my shell when I _do_ fall. Think you can handle that?"

"I'll try." He drew her closer, stroking her dark hair. "So, what's next?"

"I'm going upstairs, that's what." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were uncertain.

"All right. Lead on." He released her, motioning her ahead of him. She shot him a look, and he stepped back. "You said you wanted tough love. Go on."

She smiled, a trifle faintly, but squared her shoulders and marched up the stairs. He followed her, but stopped at the top while she continued down the hallway.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway to her bedroom, one hand on the doorsill. After a few minutes, her legs started to shake slightly, but she stood her ground. "Uh… Myles?"

"You need to be caught?"

"I think so." She slumped against him when he reached her and grabbed her shoulders. "I'm _never_ going to be able to sleep in here. I can still see that awful scene Graham left."

Myles resisted the impulse to draw her face to his chest, to block what she was seeing. "Well, then, I think you have two options. One, you can just stay at my place indefinitely. We're kind of headed in that direction, anyway."

The comment brought a smile to her face as she turned to face him. "Myles, you are _not_ getting out of a decent proposal that way. Besides, the last thing you need in your life is a wife who can't stay in a house by herself. Your schedule is unpredictable at best, chaotic at worst. I need to be strong on my own again before I can be strong with you."

He smiled back at her. "I thought that would be your answer, but I figured I'd bring the option up anyway. So the other option looks like your only one."

"And what would that be?"

"Time to spend a little of your grandfather's trust fund and completely remodel this room. Paint, carpet, furniture, the works. You told me you've never touched that money, except as the down payment on this house, and you paid all that back. I think this situation demands a little shopping spree." His eyes sparkled at her. "Isn't that supposed to be the female universal cure-all?"

Elizabeth laughed, a great amount of the tension draining from her. "Well, it's never really been mine, but since I can't go near any of the poetry books in your library just yet…" She clenched her fists slightly. "Oh, that's what really makes me the angriest. He took that from me… I could sit for hours engrossed in Tennyson or Browning… now any poem brings back that awful one from Byron. Which I never thought was awful until now."

"I know," he replied softly. "I used to love coming home to find you curled up in the library. The absolute joy on your face as you read. I hope you get that back."

"Well, in the meantime, I think you're right. I think remodeling will be the perfect therapy. It will get me over here for a fair length of time at a stretch, and a change of scenery would be nice." She stepped fully into the room now, turning to face him. "And no contractors. I want to do this ourselves. Or myself, if you're not up to a little physical labor." Her eyes teased him as much as her voice.

Myles looked insulted. "I beg your pardon? This is the woman who wanted to have a landscaper come in to plant _four trees_? Who ended up putting them in for you, since it was a waste of good money to hire it out?"

**-!-**

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Leland Residence, Columbia Heights

_7 p.m._

Marty Pavone accepted a cup of coffee and got down to business. "They're going to push for the death penalty, folks," he began. "That means you, Dr. Dillingham, as well as the _entire_ unit will be put on the stand during this mess."

Elizabeth shared a long gaze with Myles before she answered. "Mr. Pavone—"

"It's Marty, please. I've worked with Myles' unit enough to consider them almost family. You're obviously included."

Her cheeks colored slightly. "Marty, won't the defense essentially rip Myles apart on the stand? I mean, it's not like he's completely impartial in this. What about that 'conflict of interest' thing?"

Myles answered her. "If I know where Marty's going with this, I'll only be a witness for that portion of the charges that occurred _before_ we realized you were Graham's target. I was the case agent up until that point."

Marty nodded. "That's true. But we'll also need you as a witness in the charges he's facing for what he did to Dr. Dillingham as well."

Elizabeth smiled. "If I'm calling you Marty, it's Elizabeth. Or Liz."

He nodded again and continued. "Mostly for the aftermath Elizabeth is going through now, but also because you received a call from Graham as well, plus the package he sent to the office. He was stalking both of you, not just Elizabeth."

"I see," Myles replied.

"Oh, just so you know, the note that you all found in the utility tunnel will be presented as evidence. Agent Gans informed me you hadn't looked at it, Myles?"

Elizabeth swung her gaze around to him in surprise. "What note?"

Myles leaned forward, his hands folded on the table and a disquieted look on his face. "There was an envelope we found just below the access ladder where you and Graham exited. It had my name on it. D wouldn't let me look at it there, and I chose not to later." He looked up at her. "We knew it wasn't a ransom, and I decided not to run his maze. I figured you'd have told me the same thing if you'd been there. So, no, Marty; I haven't seen what it said. Frankly, I'd just as soon not know."

"I understand," the AUSA replied, "but it's part of the case we're building of just what lengths this maniac went to. I _have_ read it, and it is crude in the extreme. I just wanted to warn you; it will be read in open court."

"Do you have it with you, Marty?" Elizabeth's voice was very quiet.

He nodded. "Yes; a photocopy of it, anyway. I wanted to give the two of you the opportunity, just so you don't hear it for the first time unprepared."

The agent and the psychologist shared a long glance, and something passed between them. Then Myles sat back and said, "Marty, could you give us a few minutes alone while we look at it together?"

**-!-**

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9:30 p.m.

"The preliminary hearing is set for next Thursday at 10 a.m. Why don't the two of you come by my office Wednesday afternoon and we'll get set up?"

"Thanks, Marty." Myles shook his hand firmly. "We'll be there." He closed the door as the attorney headed for his car. Myles locked the door and switched on the alarm system, then went back to sit with Elizabeth on the sofa. "You okay?" he asked softly.

She didn't reply, just moved into his embrace and wept in his arms for the space of about ten minutes. He held her tightly, stroking her hair, until she could look up at him again.

"I'm glad you didn't have to read that while you were down in the tunnel," she finally said, tears still on her cheeks. "How _anyone_ could be so hateful, so perverse, so utterly cruel, is beyond imagination."

He wiped away the tears with his fingers, his jaw tensing slightly as he saw the faint-but-still-visible bruises on her beautiful face. "Sweetheart, he was bad enough eight years ago. He's had all that time to stew about this, and to let the hate grow. Frankly, that note sickened me, but it didn't really surprise me."

"The press is going to have a field day with us; you know that, right?" Her voice was muffled as she leaned on his shoulder. "The press, the defense, probably even the other victims' families— I don't know if I can handle all that hostility along with having to face Graham again."

"Hey." He drew her face up until he could look into the emerald depths of her eyes. "We're in this together, love. And you _know_ Connor DeLacy won't be hostile. Plus the whole team. I didn't tell you, and I bet no one else did either: you should have seen Sue in that surveillance van. Since she was reading for us, she got to essentially 'live' that nightmare, too. At one point I tried to get her to stop, but she about bit my hand off."

Elizabeth's breath came out in a laugh. "You covered her eyes, did you? I used to get the same reaction from Connie when I'd sneak up on her. I think she gave me a black eye once."

Myles chuckled. "Hey, when _do_ I get to meet this sister of yours, anyway? We haven't been around your family since that weekend at your grandfather's place, and Connie was on a business trip or something."

"Hmmm… maybe I can get her to come down for a week or so after all this mess is over. Or, she said something about a conference in D.C. in September; we might be able to get together then." She snuggled closer to him, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. "You'll like her. Especially now that you seem to have discovered some of the _advantages_ of knowing a silent language."

He gave her a look. "Yes, yes, I admit it, all right? My conversation with Jack would have been impossible without the fingerspelling and the few signs I actually remember." He leaned over to kiss her gently, then stroked her cheek. "You tired? It's been rather a long day."

Elizabeth nodded, stifling a yawn. "It has. But I'm going to take one more step today."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to finally let you have your own bedroom back. I think I can handle the guest room now."

**-!-**

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U.S. District Courthouse, Washington D.C.

_Thursday, July 1 (two weeks into Myles' suspension)_

_4 p.m._

"Well, that's that." Marty Pavone closed his briefcase as the last of the courtroom emptied. Only the team and Elizabeth remained. "In two weeks, we start to take this nut down permanently."

"Marty," Elizabeth said quietly, "he's not a nut. I know the defense is going to try for an insanity plea, but he is _not_ crazy. He never has been. Referring to him as a nut isn't going to help."

He nodded. "You're absolutely right. I won't forget."

"How hard's it going to be to get a jury for this one, Marty?" Dimitrius leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. "It's not like it's been quiet press-wise."

"Actually, Agent Gans," the lawyer replied, "after Connor DeLacy's press conference at his mother's funeral, it's been remarkably quiet, considering. The trick now is to _keep_ it quiet until the 15th when jury selection begins." He looked directly at Elizabeth. "The press will be all over you anywhere you go. I think you know how to handle it?"

She nodded and slipped her arm around Myles' waist. "They'll have to follow us around in Home Depot® then," she quipped brightly, "because I'm going to be entirely too busy to give any statements or interviews. We have a room to finish remodeling."

Bobby couldn't resist. "'We'? As in you _and_ Myles? Are you selling tickets?"

She didn't miss a beat, and pointed a finger at him. "You show up to heckle, you get put to work. House rules."

He held up his hands. "I feel a busy caseload coming up."

There was laughter all around at that, and Marty Pavone picked up his briefcase. "Well, then, I leave you in each other's capable hands. See you on the 15th." He walked out of the room.

"Anyone up for dinner?" Tara glanced around at the group.

D had to get home, but most of the rest agreed. Myles gave Elizabeth a long, searching gaze before he replied, even after she nodded. "Tara? We'll meet you all downstairs, okay?"

She nodded in understanding. "Gotcha. Come on, guys. If he's not in on the discussion of where, then we won't have to worry about Bobby griping all night about _Le Petit Monsieur_."

The usual good-natured debate about the restaurant faded as the group walked out. Myles turned back to Elizabeth and caught her chin in his hand. "You're sure you're up for this? You looked pretty pale most of the afternoon. They'll understand."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure. After all that today, I could use a night of good friends and a lot of laughter. We're on our way, love. I think we should celebrate it."

**-!-**

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Dillingham Residence, Georgetown

_Friday, July 9th (third week of suspension)_

_5 p.m._

Elizabeth wiped at her forehead and surveyed the room. "I have _never_ been so glad to have air-conditioning in this house. But it's done."

Myles pulled her into his arms, a mischievous grin on his face along with the several streaks of dirt. "You know, there's just _something_ about an empty expanse of new carpet that just begs you to lie down and check it out. What do you say, sweetheart?"

She laughed and moved her lips close to his ear. "It's called oxygen deprivation from the carpet fumes. And, with this hot spell, add probable heat exhaustion to the recipe. But it does sound—" Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and she walked over to the window. "It's Bobby. Figures he'd show up about the time we're finished."

Myles laughed. "You want to go down, or should I?"

"You go ahead. Let him see for himself that you weren't just supervising. I'll finish getting everything cleaned up and ready to take out to the garage."

He went downstairs, and she heard him greet Bobby. "There's some lemonade in the fridge," she called. She gathered up the tack strips and the tools they'd been using, dumped them all into a bucket to take downstairs. Then she straightened and looked around the room again. It was wonderful to see the room done, and they'd had a lot of fun doing it. _Even the paint war at Home Depot_, she thought with a smile. _But we reached a good compromise. I like this. We'll have some fun over the coming years, I'm sure._

She then gathered up the carpet scraps and tossed them into the bathroom trash can, then brought the container out to take down to the big container outside. She heard quiet voices coming upstairs. Suddenly, her foot hit the small trash can, tipping it over, and she stooped to clean up the mess.

"As you will see, we did a superlative job." Myles' voice reached her as she finished. "By all means, enter and admire." She stood up to greet Bobby, and caught the tail end of Myles' sweeping hand gesture— about six inches from her face.

It exploded in her mind like a bomb; Graham's hand slamming into her face. She raised a hand to block the blow she saw, and backed up against the wall, a cry escaping her lips. Myles turned and realized what had just happened. The horror that filled his eyes was too much for her; she collapsed against the wall, sobbing as she slid to the floor.

Myles was at her side in an instant. "Elizabeth? Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were standing right there…" He held up a hand as Bobby started to back out of the room. The Aussie nodded and knelt next to them.

"I _hate_ this!" she almost screamed, balling up her fists to flank her cheeks. "I hate that he's in every part of my life, that he can ruin absolutely _everything_!"

Myles took her by the shoulders, his voice gentle. "Elizabeth, it's only been three weeks. You can't expect the experience to just wash out of your psyche in that short time."

She looked up at him, her eyes still glistening. "But… I know… absolutely _know_… that you would never hit me, Myles. It's driving me crazy that Graham can make me react like that to _you_. I want this _over_." Her voice broke at that, and she buried her head on his shoulder.

Myles looked up at Bobby. The Aussie's eyes widened at the tears he saw in the blue-grey eyes; without thinking, he reached out to grip his friend's arm. They sat there for a long minute, locked in a comfortable silence neither had realized was possible. Then Elizabeth raised her head and saw them.

She watched them, both unaware of her scrutiny; then a fond smile broke through her tears. "My goodness," she said, "If all this can bring a bonding moment between the two of _you_, it just might be worth it."

Bobby laughed and gave Myles' arm a brief squeeze before he let go. "Don't get your hopes up, sheila," he teased, his eyes still on his colleague.

"Heaven forbid," Myles countered, a gleam in his own eye. "I don't think the rest of the team could take it." He brushed her hair back out of her face. "You okay?"

She sighed. "I guess so. It just all kind of tunneled in there for a minute. I'm sorry I fell apart. I was just so angry…"

"At Graham?" Bobby asked.

She shook her head. "No, at myself for reacting the way I did." She reached over and patted the Aussie's arm. "I'm glad you were here, though. Myles shouldn't have to put up with me all by himself."

Bobby glanced at his teammate again, then surprised them both. "I think he's doing a pretty good job."

**-!-**

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Leland Residence, Columbia Heights

_Thursday, October 28 _

_8 p.m._

_Today Evan Graham was found guilty of eight counts of first-degree murder, plus kidnapping, assault and attempted murder, after nearly twelve weeks of trial and two of jury deliberation_. The pen flew across the page, bold strokes that bespoke the peace that finally flooded his soul. _The court will sentence him on November 3rd; Marty's confident Graham will get the death penalty. I hope he's right. It's not often I wish for such harsh measures, but in this case I want his presence gone from our lives, once and for all. Until Elizabeth is whole again, I cannot ask her what my heart desires more than anything…_

Myles let the sentence trail off; he'd been over this in his mind a dozen times, and he knew that she'd want to be completely healed. That the trial was finally over was a good step; knowing that Graham would never be able to hurt her again would take it further. "_I need to be strong on my own again before I can be strong with you."_

He sat back in the leather chair, watching the rain pound on the study window. It was promising to be a wet autumn this year. Tonight was secluded; Tara, Sue and Lucy had swiped Elizabeth away for a full-blown "girls' night out," D had plans with his family, and Jack and Bobby were on loan to another unit for the evening. But the rain was comforting, and he didn't mind the solitude.

_What a ride it's been_, he thought, idly thumbing back through his writings over the past three months. When Sam had suggested it as a bit of "pencil therapy," Myles had seen the value of it right away. He already kept a journal; it was his way of both honing his literary skills and emptying his mind after particularly grueling weeks.

The last week of his suspension had been fairly calm; the day after they'd finished carpeting, Elizabeth had asked him to join her for a couple of her sessions that week with Dr. Sutherland. It hadn't been anything huge, but being able to really talk it out, with Elizabeth there, had relieved a great deal of tension for them both. In the meantime, they had gone shopping together for her new bedroom set, and wrestled the pieces up the stairs themselves. It was satisfying work, and it had brought them even closer. He had felt ready that day to make the last step into a commitment, but he didn't want to propose with Graham still haunting their lives.

And _haunt_ was exactly the right word for the weeks that followed. Even though Myles was back at work, because the team were all witnesses in the case, they spent most of their time for the first two months of the trial in court. Evan Graham, though he never said a word the whole time, seemed determined to spook them all; especially Myles and Elizabeth themselves…

…_Marty wants to take his case chronologically. I cannot disagree; there's so much that went on, it's difficult to keep it straight by any other means. Today was terrible; not so much question-wise, but Graham kept staring at me while I was on the stand. That smug, perverted smile on his face as Marty asked me to recall everything that went on while Elizabeth was staying at my house, the phone call, that damnable box he sent to the office… But I didn't look at him once. It helped me, but I could tell Graham was getting frustrated. He kept fidgeting._

_I should have looked at him, just once…it probably would have diffused what came next. After the defense's cross-examination, I was allowed to step down and Marty called Elizabeth to the stand. I knew she'd been watching him watching me, and I could tell she was concerned he'd do the same to her. He didn't disappoint._

_If only I'd had just a moment, even long enough to squeeze her hand… But I didn't. I could only watch as Marty began his questioning, and Graham's eyes followed her every move, every blink, every breath. She tried so hard… At one point she looked over at me, her eyes filled with pleading. I had no recourse; I could do no more than sign "I love you" to her. Had Sue been sitting next to me, I'd have asked her how to sign "stay strong," but she was father down the bench with Jack._

_Finally, finally, the day ended and court adjourned. Elizabeth was the last on the stand; she'll be there again tomorrow morning. I spent this evening holding her while she cried. She's been staying at her house for two weeks now, but tonight she is asleep in the guest room again. Today was simply too much for her_…

So much of those early weeks had ended with evenings like that; but slowly, as the case against Graham closed in, Elizabeth had started realizing that the control was hers now. By the end of the prosecution's case presentation, she could stare Graham down without hesitation. It had been immensely satisfying to watch the man realize he was losing his grip on her, and to watch her strength return.

Much of the hostility they had expected from the press and the victims' families never materialized. Myles was eternally grateful for Connor DeLacy; the young man had been a most stalwart ally. Elizabeth had been shocked to realize that the two women killed in Cambridge— Ellen Nichols and Nancy Davis— were actually siblings of high school classmates to whom she'd been fairly close. Because the women had married, their names didn't ring a bell until their parents showed up. That had been the hardest— fighting off the impulse to blame herself for the families now missing mothers, wives, daughters, sisters— but she'd overcome that as well. She had granted just one interview, to convey her grief and condolences. The journalist had been Darcy D'Angelo.

It took the better part of two months for the prosecution to finish up; the defense took much less time, because they had relatively few witnesses. Most of the case centered around trying to prove Graham was insane. Myles had watched the jury very carefully; not many of them seemed to be buying it, regardless of the three "experts" who'd presented the findings of their evaluations. He suspected it was because Marty had already had Elizabeth recap her original evaluation from eight years ago. It was certainly difficult for _him_ to believe that a man not in complete control of his faculties could have masterminded such an intricate plan.

In the end, it had taken two weeks of deliberation for the jury to get a unanimous vote on the insanity issue. Myles had felt the tension in Elizabeth's hand as the jury foreman stood…

"_We, the jury, find the defendant, Evan Graham, guilty on all charges."_

_It took every ounce of control I had not to look at Graham. Instead, I pulled Elizabeth closer against my shoulder and gave her a quick, intense kiss. "It's done," I whispered, and watched her eyes light up._

"_Not quite," she responded, "but this certainly takes it much closer." Then she stood and deliberately faced Evan Graham, her chin lifted just slightly as he glared at her._

"_Game, set, match," she mouthed silently, then turned on her heel and walked out of the courtroom_.

Myles flipped the notebook closed, absently running his fingers over the smooth leather binding. _Now_, he thought, _we just have to put it all behind us. I wish she could get back her love of poetry… and I wish I could shake that damnable nightmare. Then, we'll be ready for the rest of our lives_.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

U.S. District Courthouse, Washington D.C.

_Wednesday, November 3_

_4 p.m._

It had been a long day. Because of the death penalty request, they had recapped the basics of the trial. The team now sat together with Elizabeth, collectively holding their breath.

"Evan Graham, having been found guilty of eight counts of murder in the first degree, plus numerous sundry charges, this court sentences you to death by lethal injection, to be carried out on September 7th of next year." The judge's voice resonated through the courtroom like a bell. "This court is adjourned."

This time she didn't bother to look at him; Elizabeth simply took Myles' arm and they walked out of the courtroom. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but he decided to wait until they were alone to ask her.

"Dr. Dillingham." They turned to see Graham's attorney, a public defender, coming toward them. "May I have a word with you, for just a moment?"

She gave Myles a questioning glance; he didn't know what was going on any more than she did, so he shrugged a "why not?" at her.

"All right, Mr. Short." She gripped Myles' hand tightly as the attorney motioned them into an empty interview room and closed the door behind them.

"What's this about?" Myles' tone left little doubt of his suspicion.

The man cleared his throat, then looked directly at Elizabeth. "I just wanted to say, Dr. Dillingham, that I'm glad things worked out the way they did. There are times when being a public defender is not the noble profession I thought it would be. This case is one of those times. I'm sorry for what you had to go through, both with Graham and then here in the courtroom."

Elizabeth stared at him for a long minute. Then she held a hand out to him. "I know it wasn't personal, Mr. Short. Thank you for saying it, though." Myles nodded his agreement silently.

"Thank you, Dr. Dillingham, for accepting it. Agent Leland." He nodded a farewell and silently left.

Myles placed a hand on her shoulder. "I will never censure a public defender again. That's got to be one of the hardest jobs in the world."

Elizabeth nodded, and opened the door. "Let's get out of here, shall we? I've seen enough of the inside of this building for a lifetime."

The press met them at the steps, of course; he tried to shield her as they pushed their way through the noisy crowd.

"Dr. Dillingham, are you pleased with the sentencing?"

Her head snapped up at that, and Myles felt her pull on his hand to stop. She faced the group, her expression still unreadable but calmer somehow. He held his breath.

"Pleased? No; I could never say that I am pleased that a human life will be taken, certainly not after all this. But do I feel that justice has been done for the families who lost loved ones? Yes. Very much so."

"And for your own ordeal as well?"

She tilted her head, considering what to say, and for a moment he saw a flash of green fire. Then it was gone, along with whatever had been weighing her heart. "Justice was served for me the moment three FBI agents put their lives on the line to prevent Evan Graham from doing far worse to me than he did. It will be served again when I can put the rest of this behind me, and look toward the future." She looked at Myles, on the step just below her, and gently stroked his cheek, a smile blossoming on her face. "I have very definite plans, just as soon as Graham is out of my head for good. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

He led her out of the flock of reporters and over to his car, opening the door for her. "You realize," he said with a smile, "that you just guaranteed us a spot in every gossip column in the city."

Elizabeth smiled up at him. "At this point, I don't care who knows. Do you?"

"Hmm… How shall I answer that?" He glanced back over his shoulder to where the knot of reporters were still eyeing them. Then he drew her back to her feet, took her face in his hands, and captured her mouth in a luxurious kiss. They heard flash units going off like popcorn, but neither seemed to notice.


	19. Epilogue: A Ring of Roses

**Epilogue: A Ring of Roses**

_Leland Residence, Columbia Heights_

_Tuesday, November 9_

_7 p.m._

"Elizabeth?" Myles walked in from the garage. A late autumn rain shower was pounding the pavement outside, and the warmth of the lights in his house was welcoming. There was no answer, but the door to his study was open slightly and a light was on. He hung his coat in the hall closet, then gently swung the door open.

She was curled up on the sofa, surrounded by at least twenty books. The smile on her face was a stark contrast to the steady stream of tears down her face. Myles knelt beside her and reached for her hand. "Sweetheart? What is it?"

Elizabeth looked up at him, and her green eyes glowed with joy. "Look." She gestured toward the pile of books spread out on the sofa.

He smiled. "You're rearranging my library?" Then he got a good look at the titles. "Longfellow, Milton, Tennyson… all poetry." His head snapped back around as realization hit, and his eyes widened. "All _poetry_."

She nodded, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "Yes. I've been in here since I got off work." She held up the book in her hands. "Even Byron."

Myles took the book from her and laid it down, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. "I think you're finally home," he whispered into her hair, his heart pounding as she noddded against him. Then he pulled back to look at her. "Don't make any plans for dinner tomorrow night. This calls for a special evening out."

Elizabeth raised a brow at him, though her smile never dimmed. "What have you got cooking in that devious mind of yours?"

He kissed her nose. "You never mind. You just pull out something elegant and be ready tomorrow night."

Several hours later, after she'd gone home, Myles picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Hey, it's me. You remember that little setup we talked about? Think we can have it ready for tomorrow night?"

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Sutherland Psychiatric Clinic

_Wednesday, 5 p.m._

The work day had been uneventful; Elizabeth felt whole again, and ready to take on the world. As she locked up her office, a pleasant voice stopped her.

"Hey, Liz." Tara gave her a big hug.

"Tara! It's been forever. I'd say let's go grab some dinner, but I'm afraid I already have plans. Myles is being mysterious again."

The shorter woman grinned broadly. "I know. He sent me over to give you this." She held out a small envelope. "Enjoy your evening."

She turned to leave, but Elizabeth stopped her. "Hey, that's it? 'Hi, here you go, see ya'?"

"Yep." Tara's smile broadened further. "We'll talk later. G'night!" And she was gone before Elizabeth could ask anything further. The psychologist shrugged and headed home.

Two hours later she pulled her raincoat over the burgundy velvet dress, seeing the rain still threatening, and headed for her car.

She sat in the car for a moment, glancing again at the note in her hand. _Meet me where the rainbows end. 7:30_ She knew exactly the spot he was talking about, and she had a fair idea of what was coming. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she pulled out of the garage.

**-!-**

**-&-**

**-!-**

**-&-**

Roosevelt Park, Washington D.C

_7:30 p.m._

The gazebo was just as she remembered it, from an afternoon they'd spent strolling among the cherry blossoms. There had been a brief shower earlier that day, and the sun hit just right to bring a rainbow, one end of it landing on the Japanese Pagoda across the Tidal Basin. Later they had driven around to the "rainbow's end," as he'd called it, and found the large gazebo that apparently doubled as a bandstand.

The gazebo was aglow with tiny lights, and as she approached it, she saw that it was also filled with roses. He had created a veritable garden, every color of the spectrum nestled in among the prevalent peace roses. In the center of the gazebo was a small stone bench, with a white card sitting on it. She climbed the steps and picked up the card. _Have a seat, please._

Elizabeth did so, laying her coat beside her, noting the soft music playing in the background from apparently hidden speakers. She breathed in the fragrance around her, enjoying the sensation of being around roses again without fear. As she drank in the surroundings, however, her memory was teased… _a rose garden, a stone bench… where have I seen this before?_

She heard footsteps climbing the wooden steps, and turned. Myles was standing there, impeccable in his tuxedo. He was carrying a bouquet of white roses.

Realization struck just then, and her eyes widened. "Myles… your dream…"

He nodded and crossed to her, going to one knee in front of her and placing a finger over her lips before she could protest. "Elizabeth, this is _my_ last step home. I wanted to create a different dream for this setting, and I can think of no better." He placed the bouquet on the bench, then took her hands in his. "I needed a different poem to fill this setting, as well."

Her eyes shone as he began, very softly, to recite another poem from Lord Byron, one that would complete the journey for them both.

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes:_

_Thus mellow'd to that tender light_

_Which heaven to gaudy day denies._

_One shade the more, one ray the less,_

_Had half-impair'd the nameless grace_

_Which waves in every raven tress,_

_Or softly lightens o'er her face;_

_Where thoughts serenely sweet express_

_How pure, how dear their dwelling-place._

_And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,_

_So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,_

_The smiles that win, the tints that glow,_

_But tell of days in goodness spent,_

_A mind at peace with all below,_

_A heart whose love is innocent!_

As he finished, he reached into his pocket. "My sweetheart, we've been through so much in this past year. It seems like you have been a part of me for all our lives, and I love you with all that I am. I cannot imagine my life without you." He opened a small velvet box. "Elizabeth Dillingham, will you marry me?"

She gazed for only a moment at the simple solitaire. Then she spoke, tears falling on her cheeks. "I love you too, Myles, with my whole heart and soul. Yes, a thousand times, _yes_. I will gladly, joyfully become your wife."

He slipped the ring onto her finger and gathered her in his arms, letting all that he couldn't put into words speak in his kiss. When they parted, she smiled brightly and ruffled his hair. "You all can come out now," she said, raising her voice slightly.

A chorus of happy congratulations swarmed them, as the team appeared from the shadows. "How'd you know?" Bobby asked, peeking out from behind the video camera he was holding.

Elizabeth laughed. "I know you all too well. Either you were going to follow Myles, or he'd figure you would and just get you all in on it." She gasped as a tall figure stepped out from behind Dimitrius. "Sam! What are you doing down here?"

"You think I'd miss this?" He swept her up in a hug. "Myles called me last night. We've had this set up for a couple of months now. It was simply a matter of the right time. Welcome to the family, Liz. You're in for a trip."

"I have no doubt of that."

Myles' twin grinned as Tara stepped over to give Elizabeth a hug. "Besides, it's been too long. I had to come make sure there wasn't a flock of D.C. vultures circling Lady Mario-Kart here."

"They've had us working like crazy all afternoon," Sue added. "_And_, they have reservations for all of us at Antonio's shortly."

"We'll just go on ahead," Dimitrius said with a smile. "Don't you two keep us waiting all night."

Myles laughed. "We won't. I'm picking up the check, remember?"

"Proof positive that marriage makes a man insane," Bobby quipped.

"We'll see what happens when Darcy finally knocks you over the head," Myles countered. "See you at the restaurant. We won't be far behind you."

There was continued banter as the group walked away, leaving Myles and Elizabeth alone. When it had faded completely, Myles drew Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her tenderly again. "What are we getting ourselves into?" he said with a smile.

Her smile in return warmed them both. "An adventure to rival _anything_ we've faced up until now, love, I would wager. And I can't wait."

"Neither can I."

FINIS


End file.
